Each day that I leave
I find myself grieving
The loss of wasted time
Over vodka with twisted lime

A few hours to one place
A few days in the rat race
Is it ever shorter back
I’ve definitely lost track

A new place each week
Just to make ends meet
I’d rather live as a pauper
And be in your arms forever

But Fate has other plans,
Or maybe it’s Destiny’s hand,
That holds our distant present
Of which I truly resent

Maybe one day very soon
Our luck will find a boon
For us to pave our way
To a better type of day

But until that day comes
I am sentenced to roam
Going here and there
Almost more than I can bear