A million miles our vagabond. Wheels clocked up beneath the clouds. They're counting down to show time. When we do it for real with the crowds Air miles are owing but they don't come for free. And
He was born in the Bitterroot Valley in the early mornin' rain. Wild geese over the water, headin' north and home again. Bringin a warm wind from the south, bringin the first taste of the spring. H