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    I'm a long way from you,
    I'm a long way from home.
    And who cares for the feeling
    Of being alone?
    The notes and the words
    They will always unfold
    And I'm left with a manuscript
    That will grow old
    And the secrets all told anyway.

    So the song it is yours,
    And the song it is mine.
    And a cold wind it blows
    Through good fortunes of time.
    The hobo he leaves
    When the going is bad
    And the music he weaves
    Is so gentle and sad.
    But freedom he has anyway.

    Cosa ne pensi di "The Music Weaver" di Sandy Denny?

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