A mindless journey, this road we're taking,
the course of it is no mistaking.
It passes a dream so shallow
in its wake the days are hollow,
just so many empty hours.
A mindless journey, this life of ours. You come upon a field of flowers,
knights living in ancient towers,
and magic streams will cross your journey.
Songs will break your heart with yearning,
but fulfillment never follows.
It's just a dream, this dream of ours.

At night when the birds stop mocking,
the fading sun in haze is rocking
and the moon still just a sliver,
you dread the night ahead and shiver.
A bed is waiting, cold and lonely,
and a name you whisper echoes only
long into the endless hours.
A mindless journey, this life of ours.

And yet we go on searching, hoping,
in the dark for light we're groping
wishing away all the shadows.
In the distance there are meadows
full of life and full of laughter,
happiness for ever after,
but not for us, they're meant for others.
Up above a vulture hovers
over dreams and magic towers.
A lonely life, this life of ours.

By Teresa Gligoric