There I stood in the middle of thriving tree and drying brush
And I watched as birds sang and were abruptly hushed
I don't want to be one to leave before I'm wanted
But all I hear is them calling pulling me towards it
They don't like me here and they're ghost tell me the same
And I tried to hold out on my travel but I just can't stay
I wonder if they'd still want me if I left early
But if not, I'll feel more welcome there than here, surely
They won't miss me here and they all tell me the same
And I feel too scared in places they told me were safe
I don't think they'd mind if I left early
But I just have to gather the courage to join the winds swirling
There I stood taking a step toward drying brush
And I can't hear the songs but only a light shush
I like the way the rope feels in my hand, so strong
But soon maybe I will be hearing the sweetness of another song.
