He makes his way through the heart of the night,
|
With all he owns in a pack
|
Those childhood ways disappeared in the struggle,
|
And it don't look like they're coming back
|
|
His heart is pounding like a drum in a cayon,
|
Givin' him courage and fear
|
He'll walk the footsteps of a man for the first time
|
While he's holding back the boys tears
|
|
Hungry and cold, so young and so old
|
There's so much that he doesn't know
|
But the voice that's inside him
|
Keeps telling him mile after mile
|
You're learning the art of survival
|
|
He eyes the lights of an ageless horizon,
|
Rising up from the sand
|
He aches for something to believe in and guide him
|
Out across this no man's land
|
|
Bridges behind him are burning to ashes
|
There's no way that he can turn back
|
But that voice that's inside him keeps telling him mile after mile
|
It's all in the art of survival
|
|
Dreams burn like wildfire
|
He feels the warmth in his bones
|
Faces of loved ones
|
Place like he's never known
|
|
Bridges behind him are burning to ashes
|
There's no way that he can turn back
|
But that voice that's inside him keeps telling him mile after mile
|
This is all in the art of survival
|
This is all in the art of survival…
|
|
-----------------
|
The Art Of Survival
|
| Bill Miller |
