i'll work my way i always have i'll do whatever you choose i'll mend your clothes i'll make your bed i'll spit and shine your shoes i've wintered in italian sun i've summered in a caravan but i know you're a busy man and i must work my way i've followed workers on the land pulled daffodils with callused hands seen comets rise in cut-glass skies that curve around the moon been driven fast on icy roads by drivers i don't even know but so long as i get where i must go i'll work my way i'll work my way, i'll work my way i'll work my way, i'll work my way i work my way i travel light and i sleep easy every night and dream of things i'll never own and places i have never been see there's a river in my veins that whispers ever in my ear the names of places far from here that still i long to see but every freedom has its price these aching hands these tired eyes and on my face the laughter lines are interspersed with tears and though my feet are brown with clay this restlessness won't let me stay and wretched though my moving is i cannot linger here so i will rise before the dawn when sleep's dead weight lies on your arm before the sun burns off the mist you'll wake to find me gone sure i might return someday like the bad penny in your change but restlessness rides in my veins... and i must work my way