This Ship of Life
Hans Lundin
We pass the desert
Pass the fields of gold
We leave the summer
Reach the winter so cold
We hear the echoes
Of our mothers' thoughts inside
We feel our ancient fathers' voices
As they open wide
We feel a fragrance
Of the future in a glimpse
Inside our children's eyes
They open up our tracks
They have the key
To all the distant days
When we are lost and gone
We're only passengers
On board this ship of life
That sails along
That sails along
