I carried the world In a traveling sack With a borrowed guitar Strapped to my back Dreams stained in whiskey Thinking I was busy Telling myself I was where I ought to be What killed me Was asking, “What's in it for me?” What stilled me Was losing The man I thought I should be Now I'm here, where the clouds meet the sea I followed the sun With no jib and no map Guided by stars That never spoke back I wandered the oceans Collecting rare potions Drifting in hopes I would find what I need What killed me Was asking, “Will they speak well of me?” What filled me Was embracing Love, and all I could be Now I'm here, where the clouds meet the sea And all I did was choose to believe