The Traveller

On the first day of the journey the traveller was prepared
And words of consolation were never heard
He didn't know where he was going, just a poem in his mind
And all the things he valued, he left behind.

Running for the money
Running for the fame
Lost where he was going
And forgot his name.

The promised land was waiting, his vision led him on
But only promises were waiting, for the rest had gone
So he asked a band of travellers, who turned the other way
And left him in the wilderness to face the day.

Running for the money
Running for the fame
Lost where he was going
And forgot his name.

So he went to the desert where the land lay in waste
He was guided by the blinding sun, which burned his face
So he took to the mountains, where the air was fresh and clear
And the cold wind chilled his body, and his death was near.

Running for the money
Running for the fame
Lost where he was going
And forgot his name.

So the traveller came home again, an old and feeble man
There was no one there to greet him, everyone had gone
No one left to listen and no one left to hear
And everything had turned to dust, and the earth was bare.

Running for the money
Running for the fame
Lost where he was going
And forgot his name.

Running for the money
Running for the fame
Lost where he was going
And forgot his name.