When I'm Gone

When I pick my bags and lose the track
Of half-formed thoughts of mint
From easy towns to easy eyes
Well, never once I did.

I keep my compass up my backpack
I’ll take next town by storm
I never thought I could hate sunshine
But now I chase the cold.

With beauty in the eyes of nature
And good luck on my lips
I’ll have another glass of champagne
And jump down the abyss.

Soon I’ll feel dust under my veins
And I’ll lack another word
To come up with the brightest way
To describe you as my sun.

Well, down this road we’ll soon or later
Will get to roam by noon
But I’ll make sure when I finally get you
I will have you for good.