The boy in the rock and roll band,
trying to leave his prints on the sand.
Looking at all the pretty things from the stage up,
trying to hold destiny in the folds oh his hands.

Rolling and singing carefree on every turn and bend,
its just a drive to the halls of future legends.
Singing on and on about the confusion in a million emotion,
all personal will lies in a bundle of chaotic commotion.
The boy in the rock and roll band, the guitar still an ecstacy in his hands,
finally at the gates of golden lands, where his dreams finally land;
still sings on and on, to leave his prints on the sand.