| Madly rushing through the streets
|
| There’s no more hours left to give
|
| When nothing comes of nothing
|
| Full of empty thoughts of more
|
| Faut-il aller jusqu’au bout?
|
| Même si je contrôle tout?
|
| All I do is use my time
|
| Dreaming of a place
|
| Where I’d find such happiness
|
| But little came from having more
|
| The more we get, the more we lose
|
| When all is «more», it’s more we choose
|
| There’s always something else in store
|
| That keeps me running down that road, keeps me running
|
| To an unknown place I think is more
|
| How much higher can I be?
|
| Sailing moonbeams, scaling trees
|
| Pushing upwards to the sky
|
| Picking up what I think’s mine
|
| When nothing comes from nothing
|
| Dreaming of a place
|
| Where I’d find such happiness
|
| But little came from having more
|
| The more we get, the more we lose
|
| When all is «more», it’s more we choose
|
| There’s always something else in store
|
| That keeps me running down that road, keeps me running
|
| To an unknown place I think is more |