written by David Crosby







spirit son of a samurai, tilting at windmills

a misfit in this century

he was looking for a living to be proud of



he was driven before a dozen winds at once

like a salmon jumping upstream

without the fishes sense

not to wonder, wonder, wonder



well he was carrying his baggage

chained to his feet, his weapon held across his eyes

he was looking for the light

he was looking for the light

well he was the only one i met

on the road last night