A bird it is calling
Above the clouds so razor thin
Rushing in
On a whim
And if this were anywhere
Would it be this again
This again
Wandering
Wandering
And on a shifting mountain
What is the smell of breathing in
The scented wind
Keeps beckoning
And though this is nowhere
Will it be this again
This again
Wandering
Wandering
And though you wander weary
Under a sky of red
Blood red
In your head
And if you are anywhere
Will you be here again
Here again
Wandering
Wandering