The Traveller - Allan Taylor, Eberhard Weber, Frank Fiedler

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