How many mountains must I climb for you? How many rivers will I have to cross? I must admit I haven't always been the best for you. Tell me, would you stay at any cost? I'm standing in the doorway got my suitcase in my hand. Waiting for your answer on the cold wind blowing 'cross the land. Some people were born to ramble. They like their liquor sweet. Wild horses don't chase money. They crave identity. I'm standing on the platform. Got my ticket in my hand. All aboard cried the conductor on the cold wind blowing 'cross the land. Now you talk about your freedom but you're just too blind to see. You've thrown away your freedom on false security. I'm standing at the crossroad. I don't know which way to turn. Only time will tell the story on the cold wind blowing 'cross the land.
