Drifter’s Prayer

From as far back as I can remember, I've been a drifter
The drifting life is a lonely life but the only life I know

When I was young, I ran away from home and rode the railways for years
Across the cornfields and quarries and all the broken-down piers
I saw the green land and the big burning sky
A great dream of heaven in the world going by
These were the old and golden days of my youth
Even back then, I knew it as truth
Drifting was in my blood, in my veins
There was no other way

In summеr, you'd find work on the midway fairs
With the boys from Bostock and caravan city
Working the turnstilеs and waltzers
Speaking Parlyaree, the secret language of the carnival
But it was always part-time work
And when the autumn came, I'd feel the pull of the drifting life again
Once a drifter, always a drifter
Those are the rules of the game

I came of age and the world changed
The traveling fairs vanished
A new Funland appeared on the coast
And old carnies like me were turned into ghosts
I lived out of hotels and bars and old stolen cars
I fell out of love so many times
Somewhere inside me, a small fire died
Ah, but the drift, the drift, the drifting life
That was the life that was mine

Now I sleep on the crystal shore
With the far-away pier, all lit up like a magic torch
Sometimes I lie there and wonder, what is the weight of the moon?
What is the weight of love?
What does it mean to be truly free, under the sky and its mystery?
The answer will always be to drift, to drift

To drift is to be free