The lost art, the lost passion. We Are Tramps.
This is the weaving of our dream.
The tale has just begun.
Leather on our feet, and beards on our faces. We will live.
On the road and in the wood, live like only few have, live the life we want,
On this needed and extraordinary jaunt.
Howling at the moon in the mid-night, starving and fighting.
Through the Good, The Bad and The Ugly, We Are Tramps.
"There are no boarders, none, zero..."
