Traveling for Trees.

Why do men travel the world to see things that do not move — to see trees rooted and mountains unmovable? 
Is it to conquer the great?
Or to know that we are small?



“There’s a man ‘ere out in the corner, he’s been asking me for change
and I could use some…

There’s a hole here in my pocket it reminds me of the ways
I am hungry

Always running, for an open door

On the highway heavy-hearted, humming just to hear a sound

Loneliness it lingers through unfamiliar towns
All of them stunning, but none of them home

And I don’t know if I live like this for peace of mind
Can’t say if I do it for the foolish pride
Maybe it’s all just to prove that I’m alive
I’m alive…

Am I running just to run
Sometimes its seems running is all I’ve ever done…”

Thoughts on this?

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