| There’s a kind of a restless feeling and it pulls me from within
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| It sets my senses reeling and my wheels begin to spin
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| In the quietude of winter you can hear the wild geese cry
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| And i will always love that sound until the day i die
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| There’s a plain and a simple answer to each and every quest
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| From every quiet dance who might be a special guest
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| In a movie made for tv or a late night interview
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| You might even find them on the young and the restless too
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| Do ya get that restless feelin’when you hear a whistle blast
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| Like an echo from the past
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| Of an old engine flyin’down a road that’s ironcast
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| The lake is blue, the sky is gray, the leaves have turned to gold
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| The wild goose will be on her way, the weather’s much too cold
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| When the muskie and the old trout too have all gone down to rest
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| We will be returning to the things that we love best
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| Do ya get that restless yearning when you think about your dad
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| And the scrimshaw that he had
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| Of an old schooner rovin''neath a sky that’s ironclad
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| There’s a kind of a restless feeling and it catches you off guard
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| As we gaze off at the distance through the trees in my back yard
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| I can feel that restless yearning of those geese as off they roam
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| Then trade that for a warm bed and a place i can call home
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| Will ya get that restless yearning when you hear the wicked blast
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| Of a spectre from the past
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| Of a cold diesel rollin’down a road that’s built to last
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| Still i get that restless feelin’when i hear a whistle blast
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| See an image from the past
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| Of an old schooner flyin’down a sky that’s overcast |