About Travelling
All the sticks and the stones I brought back home
My worn out shoes my dirty clothes ain't real
The shiny face on the former page
Easy to look at easily breaks when you page down
Nothing has changed, nothing has changed
I'm just a bit more down to earth
My travels are copies of black and white
I hang them up and I draw a line
From here to where I've been
The map is spoiled by the lines I draw
They move up and down and all over
And my eyes are stuck in a black plot
Nothing has changed, nothing has changed
I'm just a bit more down to earth