I walk the road alone,
on my back I carry all I own.

I'm a fly-by-night,
and a fly-by-day.

Work where I can,
rest where I may.

I follow the road,
go where it goes.

A lonely wanderer,
who never knows.

In many cities,
I have made friends.

Who offer a home,
when my traveling ends.

But stopping isn't something,
that I plan to do.

A real home is something,
I'd have to get used to.