I love the northern woods In the fall, in the rain. Where no path leads anywhere, And life isn’t a game.
I love the rippled lake The red moon in it’s mirror. Symmetric reflections, Roasting on the fire.
My father was my leader once, My father was my teacher once. So call me the rebellious son, But where did this substance come from? I love this land of elements, In which I’ve always found him. Sleeping seam-sealed one man tents, Beer n’ beans straight from the tin.