Travelling

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