IT SEEMS LIKE A LIFETIME AGO – which of course it was, all that and more. For a boy, life on the farm was idyllic, but for the young man I became, that very peace and predictability were stifling, unbearable. I had big dreams, and needed a big place to explore them:
the whole wide world.
Near our village of Barrel Arbor, the steamliners touched down and traveled on rails along the Winding Pinion River toward Crown City. Watching them pass in the night, how I prayed to get away . . .
None of it seemed right to me . . .
In a world lit only by fire
Long train of flares under piercing stars
I stand watching the steamliners roll by
The caravan thunders onward
To the distant dream of the city
The caravan carries me onward
On my way at last
On my way at last
I can’t stop thinking big
I can’t stop thinking big
On a road lit only by fire
Going where I want, instead of where I should
I peer out at the passing shadows
Carried through the night into the city
Where a young man has a chance of making good
A chance to break from the past
The caravan thunders onward
Stars winking through the canvas hood
On my way at last
In a world where I feel so small
I can’t stop thinking big
