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