Philosopher's Stone

Out on the highways and the by-ways all alone

I'm still searching for, searching for my home

Up in the morning, up in the morning out on the road

And my head is aching and my hands are cold

And I'm looking for the silver lining, silver lining in the clouds

And I'm searching for and

I'm searching for the philosophers stone 

And it's a hard road, Its a hard road daddy-o

I'm on the road again and I'm searching for

The philosophers stone

Can you hear that engine

Woe can you hear that engine drone

Well I'm on the road again and I'm searching for

Searching for the philosophers stone

Apparently I no longer know where to call home. Alaska, as far as Homer is concerned, isn't it. We prefer the lush richness of Sitka and the rainforest there, but as yet, can't live on such a small island for very long. So, no more pronouncements on where I belong. Maybe I don't belong anywhere. As the song says (thanks to Van Morrison's "Philosopher's Stone"), I'm on the road again and searching...

Peace my friends!