I walk a path that differs from the trail where your feet fall;
I like to walk away sometimes, where the wild Dingoes still call.
Some place that’s far up in the bush where the eucalypts grow tall
and there may be creeks or hills to cross but never a fence or wall.
There’s no bugger there to hasstle me or tell me what to do
and not one tall, square building there to muck up my view.
It’s there that I can take a breath and let myself renew,
and in my mind retrace the steps of that past life I once knew.
For though, each day, I love my life, I miss my world of old
where a soul could simply wander and hearts were filled with gold.