I wake up when I wake up.
I sleep when I lie down.
I eat when I find food.
I drink when there’s drink around.
I lie in the arms of any lady
who’s willing to hold me through.
I’m on my way to no place in particular.
And, when I get there, I don’t know what I’ll do.
I got a deck of card with floating aces.
I got a shirt that’s got no sleeves.
I can see the angels faces.
I can hear them dropping off the eaves.
Words (like water) I swim in.
Rhymes (like gardens) I tend.
Songs (like friends) I’m singing.
Broken things (like hearts) I try to mend.
I’m reaching out Oklahoma.
Montanna’s just outside that door.
And when I reach Wyoming
won’t you make me a pallette on your floor.
If you’re wondering what makes a drifter.
If you’re wondering why he won’t stay.
It’s a simple matter of physics.
The truth is impossible to say.
But some night, somewhere, some star
streaks across the sky
and it’s on that one you make your wish.
On the rest you’re just wondering why.
So I’ll see ya when I see ya.
To me, everyone’s a shooting star.
By this time tomorrow.
I’ll be filling up my Madagascar.