To the east, to the east, the road beneath my feet.
To the west, to the west, I haven't got there yet.
And 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,
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 D.C.,
And I've driven across deserts, driven by the irony
That only being shackled to the road could ever I be free.

I've felt old before my time but now I keep the age away
By burning up the miles and by filling up my days.
And the nights, a thousand nights I've played, a thousand more to go,
Before I take a breath and steel myself for the next one thousand shows.

So saddle up your horses now, and keep your powder dry,
Because the truth is you won't be here long, soon you're going to die.
To the heart, to the heart, there's no time for you to waste;
You won't find your precious answers now by staying in one place,
By giving up the chase.

To the east, to the east, the road beneath my feet.
To the west, to the west, I haven't got there yet.
And to the north, to the north, I never will be caught.
To the south, to the south, my time is running out.

I face the horizon, everywhere I go.
I face the horizon, the horizon is my home.