You see, the [bad word] down to the sea,
you see, the mountains stand mayestic and free,
you see, the trees and flowers and the sky,
you are asking why you are born for today, born for today.

All thing around you it's not really to be seen,
it's a picture of a great fantastic dream,
you feel the winds of change, the sounds of rearange,
and in somebody's screams "Hey man, what do you look so strange?"

Know it on the way of our poor dependent time,
chasing like alarmed you from the worms, keep you blind,
search out for the heaven whiled you‘re creeping on the ground,
playing in a band is only one way, to be found.

Do it on the way of our poor dependent time,
chasing like alarmed you from the worms, to keep you blind,
Nothing around you with my greely to be seen, 
it's a picture of a great fantastic dream, 
fantastic dream, fantastic dream, fantastic dream.