When a man is a Traveler, the world is his house & the sky is his roof, where he hangs his hat is his home, & all the people are his family

When a man is a Traveler, the world is his house & the sky is his roof, where he hangs his hat is his home, & all the people are his family

We get up in the morning feeling tired. Sometimes we feel good, sometimes bad, but we go through it with feeling. That's the root to the truth, that's where everything starts

We gon' float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. AH! Rumble, young man rumble! AH!