a song found on a bus ride

the morning is breaking its still early yet

but the cogwheels are spinning their rest to forget

the flight and the feather have both left their nests

there's much to be done and much we must get

there's smoke in the sky that's puffing and black

the steels keep on flashing, the grains in the sacks

by cloud or by steam the roads must be cast

burdens are lightest when borne on the back

the whole world's got a bag on it's back

but the wheels on its feet all just turn in their tracks

and my heart keeps on saying i still really want to go home.

they say roads are long except when in song

remember to walk them before the day's gone

everyone's walking their paths on and on

and i'm just a wanderer a-wandering on

the light and the dark feed many a wick

greased hands and greased feet force along the clock's ticks

by oil and by fire the circles all click

forever and ever, by crick or by stick

the whole world's got a bag on it's back

but the wheels on its feet all just turn in their tracks

and my heart keeps on saying i still really want to go home.

where's home? the end of all roads and all paths and all streets that I roam

a fire but warmer; a hearth but of some softer stone.

a fairy-tale starts with it's head in the dark

tired feet make good stories, well told and quite stark.

in the thrill and the magic of the embark

the end of the journey is lost in the dark

the whole world's got a bag on it's back

but the wheels on its feet all just turn in their tracks

and my heart keeps on saying i still really want to go home.