Harrod and Funck - Walk Into the Wild | Текст песни

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• Harrod and Funck
• Walk Into the Wild

There's a dead man in the bus at Sushana River.
Where the cold air punishes you more than any fever;
Where the tundra feeds the miles and the estate of imagination grows wild.

Throwing hats up in the air, what good is college anywhere?
Not for Christopher McCandle, Alexander was his new handle thumbing to Alaska.
Finally free from this world, "I now walk into the wild.
Return all mail to sender, 'til we never meet again. Love, Alexander."

Spring thaw was around the bend when he crossed over the border in the frozen month of May.
By the river he saw the magic bus, Alex jots in his picket log, "a marvelous fourth day."
Snapping meals with his Minolta, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes.
Carves his fate into the ceiling..."I'm never leaving. The West is the best."

Maybe later he'd change the world -- Alexandria, city of gold.
It was the greatest ever misadventure,
But Alex could never read the evil poetry in his white world.

The bag of rice emptied yesterday, ranging through the wood, Alex knows the food is low.
But his ragged sould will never die, he rereads his tattered Walden and Dr. Zhivago.
Catch a fish, cherish the moment as he smokes it in the dirt.
His belly cries out louder, it's more trouble than it's worth.

Getting weaker by the day, without that map he burned Alex has lost his way.
Imprisoned by the river, day 100 still had the sweetest taste.
Writing on the bus, his mind slips into a dream.
"In God's name someone help me." Signed Chris McCandle.

Maybe later he'd change the world -- Alexandria, city of gold.
It was the greatest ever misadventure,
But Alex could never read the evil poetry in his white world.

There's a dead man in the bus at Sushana River.
Where the cold air punishes you more than any fever;
Where the tundra feeds the miles and the estate of imagination grows wild.

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