(Music & Lyric: simple-person)
It’s a dream too old.
It’s a proverb too much.
It’s a story mused with no end.
Will it echo in your heart?
I love the song shouted wild by ...
... the running train under the moonlight,
in the field of youth,
for the utopia dreamed alive,
the dream you’ve kept deep ...
... since that time, that day, that year.
The moon asked the train that night,
“Does the wilderness ever know your song?”
Lonesome fight in this search ...
... for the unseen utopia,
which dream is the heartly urged?