And old barren island, a prison to two,
and the eyes fixed upon the horizon.
The wisdom of age and the follies of youth
and an ocean to overcome.
And every mile of the journey counts
and every infantile belief amounts
to another burden that drags us down
into de Icarian Sea.
The young boy ignores the portentous tone
and his wings are melting.
Somewhere between exile and home
the escape comes to a wet end.
And every mile of the journey counts
and every infantile belief amounts
to another burden that drags us down
into de Icarian Sea.
The trap within the brain: the addiction to elation.
And a force hard to resist: the sirens incantations.
But the road ahead requires of us to not believe them
and to tune our ears instead to the croacky voice of reason.
And every mile of the journey counts
and every infantile belief amounts
to another burden that drags us down.
and the eyes fixed upon the horizon.
The wisdom of age and the follies of youth
and an ocean to overcome.
And every mile of the journey counts
and every infantile belief amounts
to another burden that drags us down
into de Icarian Sea.
The young boy ignores the portentous tone
and his wings are melting.
Somewhere between exile and home
the escape comes to a wet end.
And every mile of the journey counts
and every infantile belief amounts
to another burden that drags us down
into de Icarian Sea.
The trap within the brain: the addiction to elation.
And a force hard to resist: the sirens incantations.
But the road ahead requires of us to not believe them
and to tune our ears instead to the croacky voice of reason.
And every mile of the journey counts
and every infantile belief amounts
to another burden that drags us down.