Smoky Hoss (01 may 1962 / U.S.A.)

There's a distant radio station
Way, way out there...
Plays in my mind, all the time,
Native American,
Western song and rhyme-
Sounds of a voice calling
From a true old friend,
Whispering wind
Blown in from heaven
Persistently pushes through me
Alluring awe and
Beckoning beauty...

God,
I feel a million million
Miles from home.
And very often a way out there
In the desert
So all alone,
It causes me,
More than anything else,
To seek You.
This desert so stark and so real
My soul feels the wind
As it touches the pure sky of blue.
And still-always it seems-
I'm a million miles from Home.
It's why I can't stay still,
Following the spirits will.
I travel with nothing more
Than what I wear,
Old worn boots
Faded jacket
Hat for shade
Canteen for thirst,
I'll trust the love of strangers
With food to share,
I've no earthly roots
No place to stay and sit
Memories wander and fade
As I continue to seek
The Last and the First.

And still-always it seems-
I'm a million miles from Home.
I feel it all so deep
In my weary bones.
Will I ever make it?
Does the wind-spirit lead me there?
Blind I look,
Deaf I listen...
Only my heart seems to truly understand
I've nowhere else to go,
Whether a million miles away
Or a million days
I will continue searching throughout this land
Until I find I know,
What yet I do not know.