When you rush around in hopeless circles,

searching everywhere for something true,

you’re at the age of not believing,

when all the make-believe is through.



When you’ve set aside your childhood heroes

and your dreams are lost upon a shelf,

you’re at the age of not believing

and, worst of all, you doubt yourself.



You’re a castaway where no one hears you

on a barren isle in a lonely sea.

Where did all the happy endings go?

Where can all the good times be?



You must face the age of not believing,

doubting everything you ever knew,

until at last you start believing

there’s something wonderful in you.



You’re at the age of not believing

and, worst of all, you doubt yourself.



You’re a castaway where no one hears you

on a barren isle in a lonely sea.

Where did all the happy endings go?

Where can all the good times be?



You must face the age of not believing,

doubting everything you ever knew,

until at last you start believing

there’s something wonderful in you