Like a madman, he drives himself to the grave. Such a sad man, he never knew how to behave, Never at home with life, Driven by his father's will. Before he finds the perfect wife, He's on the field. He'll fight to kill.
CHORUS: Oh, listen to the earth, my friend. It'll bend your heart, not break it. Time is nowhere near the end, And there's plenty of room for all of us to make it
In the morning, he will cast away his dreams. Running fast, he will pass life's precious themes Not knowing the tides roll on, Not feeling the winds flow free. His growing will soon be gone To an aging memory.