We are the music makers
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lonely sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World losers and world forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world, forever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world's greatest cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire´s glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song´s measure
Can trample an empire down.
We in he ages lying,
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth.
And o´erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world´s worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.