Wanderlust

I can hear those dreams a’calling,
And I’m drawn as a moth to a flame.
I give you my love and bid thee farewell,
For I shant pass this way again.
Oh, the tears I cry,
Are for those who’ll die,
Without knowing what it is to change.
I speak thus of wanderlust,
And strength born of pain.

(1983)

Lyrics: Wicasta Lovelace
Music: Wicasta Lovelace

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