Sahara

chris was no philosopher
 he was an ordinary man
 twenty-four and running out of room
 a rifle and a pack
 and a sack of rice on his back
 guided by Tolstoy and the moon
 into the Yukon he would go
 in search of a higher truth
 Christopher would make a break
 with this world
 but he never escaped his youth
 sahara will never be the south of france
 obvious with the rising sun
 if I had no home
 I'd build one in the sand
 if I didn't have a love I'd find me one
 if I didn't have a love I'd find me one
 four months alone in the ice and snow
 is a long way from Annandale
 locals and trappers and Eskimos
 knew better than to trust that trail
 at one with the earth he loved so well
 a retreat from the civilized
 hunger and emptiness took their toll
 chris mcandless passed us by...
 Chorus