Why?
Why do we bother living at all?
Where is the purpose of life?
We stopped decades ago answering any god‘s call.
Why this struggle to be famous and rich?
Why don‘t we break free?
We‘re all blinded by the lights, deaf from the high pitch,
I want to hear, to see!
Look around your home, ask around,
All these kids, ask what their dreams are about.
They are innocent, and pure, waiting to be found.
Some of them want to become a knight, a pirate, astronaut,
Why did they stop dreaming?!
Because they were told to, „Live in the real world.“,
In the end, this is growing-up‘s meaning...
To grow up means to throw away the dreams you once had so dear hold.
I‘ve become a writer, an author,
Because I don‘t want to let go.
I want to share my dreams, that‘s what they‘re for,
I want to be a hero in a world of foes.
In this world, there are just three things
That are worth living for: Love, hope and dreams.
You could rule the world, be king amongst kings,
But without these things, you‘d truly be poor, a sarcastic justice, it seems.
The reason, why I write, why I dream,
The reason for every single one,
Is because I‘m trying to become a creator, and find a realm,
In which there are heroes, and love ‘n hope, and no one, who‘s alone.
I‘m trying to find a life
That‘s worth living it, warm, and not frozen,
No greed, no war, no one drawn to strife.
With my dreams I‘m trying to create a world unbroken.
Of course these worlds are not real, just a fantasy
Yet truth is not a thing, but an idea bold:
It must be created, lost and found, so you can see.
Find your own, find your world;
Don‘t trust a man who says his is the crown,
Stop pursuing other men dreams,
It‘s time to chase and find your own;
Your inner world is brighter than it seems---