The Hobo

I hear the whistle and the click-clack Against the ancient immigrant bones and blood That was scarificed for each foot I know you are on Running away from yr life before But I didn't belong to you then I knew you were a tortured soul looking for peace You never found in the city Still, town to town, you worked for it And then, couldn't think of anywhere to go If you found love and peace, you didn't know it And, if you did, you would get rid of it No ties You left a broken heart each place you laid yr hat Though, you realised this no life. no man is an island You are finally going home Hoping you can piece back yr old life