|And once I walked a million miles
|All the way to Yugoslavia
|And I carried you all of the way
|For where I was then there you are.
|As the sun rose o'er the curb stones
|By the road where I'd been sleeping
|Them night-long trucks, as they roared by
|They could not drown my weeping.
|And it was me, and I alone
|Who looked toward the far horizon
|And I saw King Heron
|On his dead tree throne
|And I knew not which to keep my mind on.
|Now I cannot speak for everyone
|For they got their reasons
|All on this road
|But, Heron, would that I had your wings
|For then I'd know where I would go
|For then I'd know where I would go.