…just feel like going on a walkabout, leaving everything behind?
Even though you know you’d likely end up homeless, hungry, and (ultimately) dead before your time?
But quickly dismiss the idea, because of how it would would affect those you love?
Yeah, I’m in an Ecclesiastes frame-of-mind. Meaningless, meaningless.
Nobody heard him, the dead man,But still he lay moaning:I was much further out than you thoughtAnd not waving but drowning.Poor chap, he always loved larkingAnd now he’s deadIt must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,They said.Oh, no no no, it was too cold always(Still the dead one lay moaning)I was much too far out all my lifeAnd not waving but drowning.