You wake up to the sounds intruding through the hotel room door
Another 5:30 alarm call, another taxi, another plane
If it's Tuesday this is Montreal. Tomorrow night you'll be in Rome
An endless trail of meetings becoming ever more mundane

Chorus:
Building castles in the air
Grabbing the brass ring
Chasing rainbow's end
Forging illusions

You started out so eagerly — in those days you were driven to succeed
Going home or going out the golden chalice was your chosen aim
Working like a galley slave and never finding time to let go
You can't remember when it changed, when you started to lose the flame

Chorus:

The meeting room is tense. Players angle for position in the game
Cups of coffee stand untouched. All the faces carry insincere smiles
You listen half-anesthetized to words exploding like a wave on rocks
You no longer hear the sirens, no longer feel the passion or the thrills

The days drag by like empty silhouettes, each one like the one before
Every time you try to change direction someone drags you back into the drill
So tear the walls around you down and raise your voice above the wind
And never sigh "What mighta been?" but only ever ask "What will?"

There are no castles in the air
The ring has turned to dust
No pot of gold
Only illusions

You wake up to the sounds intruding through the hotel room door