Halfway Home

Halfway Home

On the road to nowhere in particular,

The seasons change in threes.

Searching for somewhere,

Anywhere, please, I ask,

The gas attendant says,

"Stay in Lane Three."

But when I ask him where I'm at

In relation to where I want to be,

He says, "You're already half way home, my friend."

I guess I'll drive on, scot-free.

Driving on down in perpetual motion,

Whistling a little tune.

Bumps and stops all along the way,

They merely impede what I want to see.

And what do I say when I get there,

To that little piece of paradise?

Well, I bought a map at the station, titled,

"The Road to Nowhere Indeed."

So I drive on, missing exits,

Home could be off any one.

The note inside the map said,

"Home is in the state of Mind."

And I travel on, philosophizing,

Pondering what could it mean?

Lane Three never ends

And the light's always green.

And if I arrive at the homestead,

What then would come of me?

And then it occured to me what it is,

That it's the thrill of the chase, not the end.

Life is each moment I'm driving forward.

Could it be that this vagabond

Has it figured out over a man in a castle,

Accelerating beneath God's blue skies?

Nature really ain't so bad,

And I've never enjoyed it this way before,

How it comes and goes in waves of three.

I'll never leave the road,

That gas attendent really knows his stuff;

I'm halfway home in Lane Three.