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letra de this journey will not end until the end - rama o.a.

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verse 1:
you start to walk, you’re looking for solutions you knock
but no-one answers, you have no friends and no-one to talk to
so what matters, anyone that knows you will mock you
understand this, but all of your missed chances still haunt you

so you move, on you go there’s nothing to prove
and all along, your whole life’s been a h-ll of a cruise
until the bombsh-ll that showed you you were terribly bruised
and so confused, i’d hate to be the one in your shoes

you turn the corner, the things you see catch you unawares
your pride and honour, is tested to its limits and ends
and you pretend for a minute that there’s someone that cares
that you’re a goner, this deadly hour’s taken its shares

you start to run, you flee as though they’re holding a gun
but you’re deceived, adrenaline is making you numb
and incomplete, you’re sweating like it’s hundred degrees
you smell defeat though the journey’s almost over and done…

verse 2:
you take a breath, you feel as though you’re so close to death
though you’re alive, you think about the people you’ve met
and then denied, you contemplate the bread and the meth
the suicide, there’s no more thoughts that you can forget

and out you go, your world is empty you’re all alone
you walk away, they tell you stop but you tell them no
you won’t stay for a minute longer than you can hold
it is so, there’s no way out you’re hitting the road

and the jog of your feet, and that of your memory
makes you stop, you realize that your own enemy
is you though you’ve p-ssed the blame around for eternity
whatever, you’re angry, but now you can see

the truth arises, you can see it suddenly sane
without disguises, it cannot lie there’s nothing to gain
but all the same, you know that it could all be in vain
you think you’ve won though the journey’s starting over again

bridge:
and now i see
that the journey
will not end
until the end

verse 3:
now if you had been born, bred, and brought up a king
you wouldn’t know what it takes to be one with your limbs
nonchalant, overrated without life or wings
all you do, although debated, means less than nothing

and so it happens that you never figure out what you feel
didn’t stop to think about the journey’s onward appeal
and what is real, means far more than the definite end
so what is good is thus in good health if you never pretend

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