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Texty písní Paper Lions Travelling

Travelling

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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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