He smiled and rubbed the stubble on his chin He sure shall find the weariness and dreariness of life that's growing thin Yet he didn't have so very far to go With a pencil in his hand he will travel on as planned With a mere step in the mountain to a light
Craise Finton Kirk, see him go, on his way Oh they don't know where he is Very very nice, very very nice
Even in the morning when he slept Something odd is missing There's nothing very much to talk about And nothing very much to see
Craise Finton Kirk, see him go, on his way Oh they don't know where he is Very very nice, very very nice
Talks about the place he'd like to go And you never see the worrying and hurrying and that makes a person slow Yet you wouldn't think he'd be so hard to find Yet he looks so very busy but there's nothing on his mind And his wavy hair continues not to grow
Craise Finton Kirk, see him go, on his way Oh they don't know where he is Very very nice, very very nice
Craise Finton Kirk, see him go, on his way Oh they don't know where he is Very very nice, very very nice