At the end of the end, where the sea no longer reaches
The nights burn, the light never leaves
When are we going to stop
The road doesn't go where you want to get
Like Jack Kerouac, always against the wind
Here it's never a good time
Nomads without a city, tired of waiting
Look at the highway, you see the days go by
When are we going to stop
There are no songs on the radio that talk about what we dream
There's no future, it already passed
The present can't be seen
We're never going to come back
Distance brings us closer
That feeling of not having missed your train
We're never going to come back
That feeling of not having missed your train