The Traveling Kind - Emmylou Harris, Rodney Crowell

We don’t all die young to save our spark

From the ravages of time

But the first and last to leave their mark

Someday become the traveling kind

In the wind are names of poets past

Some were friends of yours and mine

And to those unsung, we lift our glass

May their songs become the traveling kind

We were born to brave this tilted world

With our hearts laid on the line

Be it way-crossed boy or red dirt girl

The song becomes the traveling kind

There are mountains worth their weight in gold

Mere mortals dare not climb

Come ye tipsy, sainted, sinners both

And claim them for the traveling kind

When the music slowly starts to fade

Into the light’s last soft decline

Let us lie down in that evening shade

And rest among the traveling kind

And the song goes on for the traveling kind