What holy cities are to nomadic tribes - a symbol of race and a bond of union - great books are to the wandering souls of men: they are the Meccas of the mind.
G.E. Woodberry
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Keep the Dream Alive
Four Seasons, seconds, flicker, and flash, I'm alone.
A lonely scream provides the scene - it's no hope.
Every night I hear you scream, but you don't say what you mean.
This was my dream, but now my dream has flown.
I'm at the crossroads, waiting for a sign.
My life is standing still, but I'm still alive.
Every night I think I know,
In the morning where did it go?
The answers disappear when I open my eyes.
I'm a stranger to this place, where real life and dreams collide.
And even though I fall from grace, I will keep the dream alive.
I will keep the dream alive.
Four Seasons, seconds, flicker, and flash, I'm alone.
A lonely scream provides the scene - it's no hope.
Every night I hear you scream, but you don't say what you mean.
This was my dream, but now my dream has flown.
I'm a stranger to this place, where real life and dreams collide.
And even though I fall from grace, I will keep the dream alive.
I'm a stranger to this place, where real life and dreams collide.
And even though I fall from grace, I will keep the dream alive.