Travelling - Paper Lions

Travelling the road, last known is where I want to be

My compass directing, electing, an open road with golden trees

But there’s an old man in need on the ground, I try not to make a sound

He holds out his hand as I walk away, I hear him say

Please don’t be a stranger in my place

Travelling come to a tavern for a momentary rest

I see the old man that I passed on the road in his distress

As I turned to go I can hear him say, «Son, stay.

Have a drink, I’ll pay.»

Let bygones be gone, it’s all in the past, we raise a glass

Please don’t be a stranger in my place

What if I could be what you wanted me to be

What if I could see what you wanted me to see

Come on and show me

Please don’t be a stranger in my place