I FOLLOW THE TRACKS, AND LOOK FOR THE SIGNS

I look for the signs.
Footprints in the snow...
disturbed brush, and dead campsites.
I follow the tracks, back to mankind,
sorrowfully so.
Because I know...
The hardships of my mind.

It is better in the woods.
I can be with gentle things.
Alone, I watch the hawk on wing.
Now, all is good,
in this great Midwestern forest.
I see my breath,
crytalize before my eyes.
It is so cold out here...
so pristine,
so primitive.
There is moss on the bark.
The air is clean.

There is soft mud, by rapid streams.
Gurgling waters sing me a lullaby, to sleep.
They prod me not to leave.
They tell me to lay myself down in the snow...
to sleep the eternal sleep.
It is so easy for me to do....
Yet...

I follow the tracks to mankind.
I think the hard way, might be the best,
At least for a time.
I can always change my mind.
I can follow the tracks,
back to this time.
To release my mind,
I'll look for the signs.