Seems like the closer I get, the further there is to go, seems like the more
I learn, the more there is to know, no matter which way you turn, seems
like your going in the same direction, no matter how many times you

check the mirror, you see the same old reflection.
And I guess it's just a matter of time before I get to where I'm going, but
it's sure a long road there and my weariness is showing, and all my faith

is in this road I travel on, to live the peasants life and sing the poets
song.
This melancholy feeling, that has drenched me to the core, never wants

for nothing, but always ask for more, and never did the sunset ever look
so nice, as when all the dues were counted, and I realized I paid them
twice.

And I guess it's just a matter of time before I get to where I'm going, but
it's sure a long road there and my weariness is showing, and all my faith
is in this road I travel on, to live the peasants life and sing the poets

song.
And on this road of sorrow, there is really nobody to blame, were all just
victims of our virtue, or victims of our shame, there ain't no way to turn

back, but we always try, we don't expect no answers, but were always
asking why, and sometimes it seems like were traveling, down the wrong
road, but it's not the wrong road, it's just the long road.