On the first day of the journey the traveller was prepared And words of consolation were never heard He didn't know where he was going, just a poem in his mind And all the things he valued, he left behind Running for the money Running for the fame Lost where he was going And forgot his name The promised land was waiting, his vision led him on But only promises were waiting, for the rest had gone So he asked a band of travellers, who turned the other way And left him in the wilderness to face the day Running for the money Running for the fame Lost where he was going And forgot his name So he went to the desert where the land lay in waste He was guided by the blinding sun, which burned his face So he took to the mountains, where the air was fresh and clear And the cold wind chilled his body, and his death was near Running for the money Running for the fame Lost where he was going And forgot his name So the traveller came home again, an old and feeble man There was no one there to greet him, everyone had gone No one left to listen and no one left to hear And everything had turned to dust, and the earth was bare Running for the money Running for the fame Lost where he was going And forgot his name Running for the money Running for the fame Lost where he was going And forgot his name