Prompt / Lyrics
I saw him for the first time on the corner of Fremont, dragging a rusty cart worn by time and damage. His broken shoes told stories louder than the street, every step was carrying both hope and defeat. People watched with pity, some with quiet disdain, some just turned their faces like he was just a stain. As if wandering alone made a man insane, or turned a soul to nothing but a shadow of pain. But he didn’t care… With the wind he smiled, he greeted every bird, and somewhere in his silence there was freedom in his world. He sang with the morning, like he had no fear, like the weight of being human never touched him here. I saw him stop beside me, just a few steps away, to share a hard, old piece of bread at the end of the day. A stray dog came and ate it, and he laughed out loud, like life had just handed him a feast fit for a crown. Not all wanderers are lost… some just choose to be free And I understood… Maybe he had more than all of us who run, chasing clocks and rules till the day is done. Not all wanderers are lost, some just choose to be free, carrying whole worlds in what we fail to see. Freedom in a pocket, love in simple bread… Maybe we’re the ones who’ve lost ourselves instead. Not all wanderers are lost… some just choose to be free
Tags
Indie folk acoustic, soft guitar, slow tempo, intimate female vocals, breathy and emotional, minimal and cinematic
Duration
4:08
Instrumental
No
Created
3/28/2026