Somehow I find myself far out of linefrom the ones I had drawn
Wasn't the best of paths, you could attest to that,but I'm keeping on.
Would our paths cross if every great losshad turned out our gain?
Would our paths cross if the pain it had cost uswas paid in vain?
There was no pot of gold, hardly a rainbowlighting my way
But I will be true to the red, black and bluesthat colored those days.I owe my soul to each fork in the road,each misleading sign.'
Cause even in solitude, no bitter attitudecan dissolve my sweetest find
Thanksgiving for every wrong move that made it right.