When the supreme authorities of our culture   Tell us to get down on our knees   And beg for salvation from some divinity   Is it any wonder there are people   Begging on the street for salvation from poverty?      Well, it's no surprise to me   I left my home in the church      I left my home in the suburbs to wander   I did it all for my dreams and the star   That I followed fell from the periphery   the street lights slipping down   My windshield fell like falling stars      Down a dark country road   I first left my home when I was seventeen   And I paid my respects to my fellow rejects   But I tended to wander alone like I was listening   To the words of a song, whispered soft and low      It's kind of like dancing   It's kind of like losing your mind   And I've often considered   The impractibility of my life   The moon behind the clouds is ill-defined      I got lost so many times but I could not   Be consigned to a fate of obsolescence   And decline, so I'll take the chance again   And the Mockingbird is my friend when he sings   A song in the warm midnight wind, I'll follow   My old tune and I'll wish you good morning