Winter's the time to escape from the clime
Where the grey skies yield only snow,
So I wisely migrated and luxuriated
In a place where the sunny skies glow.
I'm enjoying the view, when out of the blue
I'm hit with a funny sensation.
It's been all kinds of fun sitting here in the sun,
But it suddenly feels like stagnation.
I open my eyes and I scan the horizon;
My feet begin to itch.
I think about wheels and my mind fairly reels,
and my fingers begin to twitch!
I look hither and yon: "What the hell's going on?"
It feels like I'm starting to rust.
I can't shake this notion: I should be in motion;
It's high time to kick up some dust!
Now, I don't mean to diss you, I'll certainly miss you,
But I was born to wander.
And if you ask me where I'd rather be,
The answer will always be, "Yonder."
So I'll bid you adieu, and hope to see you
The next time we happen to pass;
'Cause for itchy feet ain't but one certain treatment:
I just have to step on the gas!