The Traveling Kind

We don’t all die young to save our spark From the ravag-es of time But the first and last to leave their mark Some-day be-come the traveling kind In the wind are names of po-ets past Some were friends of yours and mine And to those un-sung we lift our glass May their songs be-come the traveling kind We were born to brave this tilted world With our hearts laid on the line Be it way crossed boy or red dirt girl The song be-comes the traveling kind There are mountains worth their weight in gold Mere mortals dare not climb Come ye tipsy sainted sin-ners both   And claim them for the traveling kind When the music slowly starts to fade Into the light’s last soft decline Let us lie down in that evening shade And rest a mooing the traveling kind And the song goes on for the traveling kind