I am what they call a wayward soul,
And there is no one land I can call home.
I find peace in unknown tongues,
And so I roam, so I roam.
I feel at ease before foreign winds,
And sands of other places.
And strangely I feel familiar,
Before unfamiliar faces.
A wanderer, a loner,
They think I’ve lost my way.
These rooted trees wouldn’t understand,
There’s no one place I want to stay.