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Lyrics
I built my dreams in silver lines,
Beneath the calm of gentler times.
The fields were wide, the skies were clear,
But fate was whispering near.
We wait for happiness to come,
But sorrow finds us, one by one.
The best-laid hopes, they fade away,
Like stars that die before the day.
I saw the dawn, I called it mine,
But night returned before the shine.
The seed I planted turned to rain,
And joy was shadowed by the pain.
We wait for happiness to come,
But sorrow finds us, one by one.
The best-laid hearts will break and bend,
And dreams go lost around the bend.
Yet still we build, though all decays,
Still light the fire against the haze.
For even pain — its fleeting breath —
Reminds us we’re alive in death.
We wait for happiness to come,
But sorrow finds us, one by one.
The field lies bare, the sky is torn,
Yet still, we sow — though hearts are worn.
The idea#
Dreams are drafted under clear skies that already carry a whisper of fate. Happiness is waited for as if it were a season due to arrive; sorrow finds each person in turn, patient and personal. The chorus is almost classical in its refusal to flinch: best-laid hopes fade like stars that die before day.
Yet the song will not end in barren field alone. Still we build; still we light fire against haze; pain’s brief breath is taken as proof of being alive even inside decay. Dark and uplifting trance can hold that double weather—night returning before the shine, and the stubborn sow of worn hearts.
I do not hear cheap optimism. I hear the dignity of continuing without guarantees, of planting into torn sky because refusal would be a colder death than failure.
