Frank Turner, “The Road”

To the east, to the east, the road beneath my feet
To the west, to the west, well I haven’t got there yet
To the north, to the north, never to be caught
To the south, to the south, my time is running out

Ever since my childhood I’ve been scared, I’ve been afraid
Of being trapped by circumstance and staying in one place
So I always keep a small bag full of clothes carefully stored
Somewhere secret, somewhere safe and somewhere close to the door

–Written by Frank Turner