I got a taste of the vagabond life
It was fun but fleeting, trying out the
Nomadic thing that I thought could keep me awake and excited
Maybe the gun at the back of my head played a part in the riot
Aimlessly wandering from place to place, waiting
For my love to come back to me
Purpose, passion, no distractions
Purpose, passion, I've missed out on all the action
No place to call home, nowhere to make my own
A threadbare and quick death
Snuff out all inspiration
Directionless address
Will we ever even get there
I've been wasting away my time
I find it hard to do the things I love
When there's nobody watching, no satisfaction or nothin'
If there was still a gun to the back of my head
Maybe I'd do something
I speculate, still unclear at what's to blame for my
Dying flame. Likely a whole mess of things
Stoke the fire, reignite me
Aimlessly wandering from place to place, waiting
For my love to come back to me
I speculate, still unclear at what's to blame for my
Dying flame. Likely a whole mess of things
But we're back, baby in the saddle once again
See the light through the trees, must be a clearing
And the waiting's over
