When the supreme authorities of our culture Tell us to get down on our knees And beg for salvation from some divinity Is it any wonder there are people Begging on the street for salvation from poverty? Well, it's no surprise to me I left my home in the church I left my home in the suburbs to wander I did it all for my dreams and the star That I followed fell from the periphery the street lights slipping down My windshield fell like falling stars Down a dark country road I first left my home when I was seventeen And I paid my respects to my fellow rejects But I tended to wander alone like I was listening To the words of a song, whispered soft and low It's kind of like dancing It's kind of like losing your mind And I've often considered The impractibility of my life The moon behind the clouds is ill-defined I got lost so many times but I could not Be consigned to a fate of obsolescence And decline, so I'll take the chance again And the Mockingbird is my friend when he sings A song in the warm midnight wind, I'll follow My old tune and I'll wish you good morning