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Prāta Vētra
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Adventures of the Free
When he was a boy he played with his toys
In the back of the bush where he once used to hide
He rarely thought life would follow a plot
To become what his parents would never find right
Dad at his age had his newspaper rage
Never leaving a page out of his sight
Mother was cooking, always good looking
Taking her boy to church every Sunday
'Cause they wished for their boy all the best in the world
Luminous diamonds and sparkling gold, oh Lord
They never forgot to take care of their hope
Good looking gardens and fashionable clothes, oh Lord
As the boy got older took his mom by the shoulder
And this is what he told her: 'I see through your code'
Not long after dinner, he felt as a winner
Packing his bag and hitting the road
The parents were grieving, the road it was weaving
Uphill to the east like a tale of a dog
He didn't look back at the past, that was wack
At least that was something that stuck in his mind
'Cause he thought he knew better what is best in the world
To fill up the sentence with his own words, for sure
He never forgot to take care of his hope
To play his own music with his own chords, for sure
When he was tired and restless, he couldn't fall asleep
He craved to sail the ocean, others seem too deep
His foolishness is lazy and so is sanity
He saw the world as endless adventures of the free
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So he didn't look back at the past, that seemed wack
As he got to the top of the hill he stopped
Took a deep breath and ran right before
He jumped into freedom and tasted its glamour
Nights that made sick to his stomach
'Freeyourmind' sessions with hippies all summer
He's been behind bars in stripped pajamas
Sang hallelujah and Hare Rama
He met the Pope and Dalai Lama
Ate with Osama and Ms. Obama
Felt the cold in Siberia and heat in Bahamas
The further he went
The more he missed dad and mama
Missed dad and mama…
Passing the bush where he once used to hide
He's at the door, about to step inside
The house he has left many years ago
Now the circle is done like it was his goal
Oh, like it was his goal, like it was his goal
His foolishness was lazy and so was sanity
He saw the world as endless adventures of the free
The story is over but then it continues
Simply just like they sing in the blues
If no one sends a letter you were not receiving
You can't go home if you were never leaving
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