Chris was no philosopher
He was an ordinary man
Twenty-four and running out of room
A rifle and a pack
And a sack of rice on his back
Guided by tolstoy and the moon
Into the yukon he would go
In search of a higher truth
Christopher would make a break
With his world
But he never escaped his youth
sahara will never be the south of france
Obvious with the rising sun
If I had no home
I'd build one in the sand
If I didn't have a love I'd find me one
If I didn't have a love I'd find me one
four months alone in the ice and snow
Is a long way from annandale
Locals and trappers and eskimos
Knew better than to trust that trail
At one with the earth he loved so well
A retreat from civilization
Hunger and emptiness took their toll
Chris mcandless passed us by...
CHORUS
