To the east, to the east, the road beneath my feet

♫To the east, to the east, the road beneath my feet.
To the west, to the west, I haven’t got there yet.
To the north, to the north, never to be caught.
To the south, to the south, my time is running out.
Ever since my childhood I've been scared, I've been afraid,
of being trapped by circumstance, of staying in one place,
and so I always keep a small bag full of clothes carefully stored,
somewhere secret, somewhere safe, somewhere close to the door.
Well I’ve traveled many countries, washed my feet in many seas,
I've drunk with grifters in Vienna and with punks in old DC,
and I've driven across deserts,
driven by the irony that only being shackled to the road could ever I be free.♫