Why wherever I go do people ask directions from me
Seems I look like I know but have no clue generally
People of all nations come to me for advice
And although the feeling of trust can be rather nice
I have to smile and shrug, can offer them no direction
Two strangers in an unknown place, an equally lost reflection
And I’m sure if they knew me they wouldn’t bother me so
I’m not the person to ask as I just follow where my feet go
My mind takes in everything, I can always find my way home
I just have no real interest in the direction that I roam
So if you see a guy in a hat, wandering and grinning
He can’t tell you where he’s going, but can take you back to the beginning
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
O, where are you going, I may ask Wanting to go back to the beginning