The Traveling Kind

We don't all die young to save our spark
 From the ravages of time
 But the first and last to leave their mark
 Someday become the traveling kind
 In the wind are names of poets past
 Some were friends of yours and mine
 And to those unsung, we lift our glass
 May their songs become the traveling kind
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 We were born to brave this tilted world
 With our hearts laid on the line
 Be it way-crossed boy or red dirt girl
 The song becomes the traveling kind
 There are mountains worth their weight in gold
 Mere mortals dare not climb
 Come ye tipsy, sainted, sinners both
 And claim them for the traveling kind
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 When the music slowly starts to fade
 Into the light's last soft decline
 Let us lie down in that evening shade
 And rest among the traveling kind
 
 And the song goes on for the traveling kind