Lyrics: © Ju Honisch / Music: © 2000 Katy Dröge

There's a chest of bright magic beyond this next hill
And we climb in an effort to reach it.
Step by step we crawl onwards and upwards and forward
And we ache and we slave and we drag ourselves, still,
We're not there, we're but here.
Not getting near.

There's a box filled with gold beyond this high ridge
And the hill's growing into a mountain.
And small pebbles are stones and then boulders and rocks
And a deep ravine is to be crossed by a bridge
That's not there, that's not here,
That's not near.

There's a cave with a treasure beyond this steep range
And its sheer rising summits are stretching
Into clouds, into skies into dark blackest night
And we strive and we work and we ache and we change
Staying there, staying here,
Not getting near.

There's a road paved with emeralds and diamonds and gold
And we're on it and never take notice,
And we curse the sharp stones and the metal-hard path
And we laugh at the wise man by whom we are told
That we're near, that we're here,
That we're there.