There's no map,
no single pace
No dotted lines or easy trace
Each step I take I lose it's heat
But still I walk and call it grace
I've turned in circles, swept in place
But every stumble has it's space
Let me wander
without track Sometimes forward means going back
No one's path is clear or sure There's only getting through
Progress is a crooked shape
Let me wander without track
Sometimes forward means going back No one's path is clear or true
There's only getting through
