Travelling

Paper Lions

Travelling the road, last known is where i want to be
My compass directing, electing, an open road with golden trees
But there's an old man in need on the ground, i try not to make a sound
He holds out his hand as i walk away, i hear him say

Please don't be a stranger in my place

Travelling come to a tavern for a momentary rest
I see the old man that i passed on the road in his distress
As i turned to go i can hear him say, "son, stay. have a drink, i'll pay."
Let bygones be gone, it's all in the past, we raise a glass

Please don't be a stranger in my place

What if i could be what you wanted me to be
What if i could see what you wanted me to see
Come on and show me

Please don't be a stranger in my place
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