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Very often I find myself
Wandering long and lonely roads
Armed with a broken compass
And a badly drawn map
I plod on
Arriving at a crossroads
I wonder which way to go
On my left ebony
On my right ivory
And the middle ground
Where I stand
Sometimes alone
Sometimes in the company of friends
Like in a quiet railway station
We measure our lives
Spoon by spoon
As we walk down this path
Which we have chosen
Who knows what lies in the end?
Who knows if there really is an end?
This is a journey we have embarked on
Without a destination in mind
But wherever we go, we are not alone
The Bilge Master
