Facing the sun, waiting for these things to come
We smiling high watching the good things passing by
Pretend we feeling fine, but inside we're crying sometimes

It ain't what it seems, nothing but a dream

And the faces get void and the light's getting thin

And the roads become uneven, so we don't know where we've been
And those who doubt us, will soon believe
We are never supposed to win or even to achieve


Facing the sun, waiting for these things to come
We smiling high watching the good things passing by

Pretend we feeling fine, but inside we're crying sometimes
It ain't what it seems, nothing but a dream


And the faces get void and the light's getting thin
And the roads become uneven, so we don't know where we've been
And those who doubt us, will soon believe

We are never supposed to win or even to achieve