I drive through a sand storm in a classic body (note: maybe a motocycle).
The road continues forever.
I’ll take the sun with me.
I don’t know how far I have to go to reach the goal.
We’re riders,
constantly wandering somewhere, away from here,
and asking ourselves “What is freedom?”
Run and run
oh oh, to the wonder land, to the wonder land.
As we have no back gears,
just go forward.
From the radio, exciting melodies of 1968 plays.
As the memories cross by each other,
I will show/make a peace sign.
Get across the muddy tracks.
I wonder what we can see at the end of the mirage.
We’re riders,
constantly wandering in our cheap life
and asking ourselves “What is the truth?”
Run and run
oh oh, to the wind, to the wind.
As we have no traffic signs,
just go forward as you feel.
I believe
going straight is not always the right answer.
So, instinctively and hungrily,
let’s take a detour
Go through anyway.
We’re riders,
constantly wandering somewhere, away from here,
and asking ourselves “What is freedom?”
We’re riders,
constantly wandering in our cheap life
and asking ourselves “What is the truth?”
Run and run
oh oh, to the wonder land, to the wonder land.
As we have no back gears,
just go forward.
Run and run
oh oh, to the wind, to the wind.
As we have no traffic signs,
just go forward as you feel.
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