New Album. With a Twist.

I am releasing a new album today called “The Last Dice”. Spread the word. And the music.

Album cover - "The Last Dice"

New album. Previously released songs. New order. New package. New experience.

You can stream it on all major services, or download it free, here.

The twist: these are the same songs as on my previous album, American Troubadour. But they are in reverse order. New album title. New package.


Because few people have ever heard this music.

Even if you have heard this album, it feels like a completely new experience when you listen to it in reverse. Starts very calm, reflective. Then it builds. It’s a journey from an intensely personal, inward focus towards global concern and inspiration.

This is the album as I originally envisioned it. And the cover I originally designed.

Frankly, I have never liked the cover on American Troubadour. It’s always bothered me. To be honest, the whole process of releasing that album went sideways. The studio production went beautifully. We were all very hopeful. Then things went wrong with the cover, the marketing plan, the release party, everything. The process kind of fell apart. It’s a long story.

But I believe in these songs. I believe they deserve a fresh start, a better chance to find listeners.

So I’m making this album available for free, digitally. You can download the whole album here. Of course you can also stream the album on platforms like Spotify, Apple or YouTube as usual (and please do that, it helps when those streaming numbers go up). And you can buy the album from the usual distributors, if you prefer.

But especially if you have never listened to these songs, please listen now. I believe you will find at least one song that will touch you.

Give you solace. Give you hope.

And then, if you feel like it — please spread the word. And the music.

— Alan

Hence this Facebook page … about my music

Today I opened a new Facebook page — Here is the text from the “About” section.

Me and the guitar: a love story

Lake Siljan, Sweden, around 2006

This morning I pulled out my old Martin D-2832 — a mass-produced model from the early 1980s, my first “serious” guitar — and got just as much joy from running my fingers over the grooved and smooth metal of its strings as the first time I played it, sitting on an amp at the Sam Ash music store in midtown Manhattan. Compared to the forgettable beginner-guitar I was using at the time, the Martin was a revelation. Once I held it, and heard it, I had to have it. Four hundred twenty-five dollars was a lot of money then, especially to me — a month’s wages. Measured in pleasure, it is the best investment I ever made.

Martins are not easy to play, but they reward the diligent. At first, I could barely make a decent-sounding chord. My hands had to strengthen, my dexterity had to become more precise. But I learned. I have strummed and finger-picked that instrument for 27 years now, recorded several albums with it, written the vast majority of my songs on it. To the extent that I can call myself a guitarist, it is thanks to that guitar, and I was known in my early days occasionally to sleep with it (when I snoozed off with the instrument still in my hands, late of an evening).

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The loyalty has paid off: even if I practically ignore it for months, my first-love guitar now reminds me how to find the chord, the pattern, the tone, just by picking it up again. It re-teaches me the songs I learned, or wrote, decades ago. It encourages repetition, which is the basic secret of becoming a musician (or most anything), by hinting at a nuance of tone or emphasis that I missed the first time around, which stimulates a longing to try again. And it brings enormous satisfaction when the nuance is found.

My guitar reminds me of places, because many of my strongest memories were cemented into my mind by the addition of a song, written or performed at the behest of a specific site. “Midsummer Island” was composed on Utö in the Swedish archipelago. “The Last Dice” assembled itself in Istanbul. “Goin’ to the Top” came out on a quay next the Sydney Opera House. In each case, I did not say to myself, “This would be a good place to write a song.” It was more like this: a song emerged in my mind and said, “This would be a good place to write me.”

My Martin was always my principal travel guitar, so it has been with me in dozens of countries. The accumulation of distance traversed shows in its many small cracks and dents, which mirror similar features that seem to have accumulated on my own face. These days I rarely travel with the guitar, because airlines have made that harder and harder, and because my work travel now (as a Swedish government official) never includes a musical performance, in the way that my work trips routinely used to.

But that is not a sad fact. That history of extensive travel is now a part of the guitar itself, part of its personality, part of what I automatically think about when I pull it out of the soft zippered bag that has always protected it just enough, but not too much.

I have other guitars, of course — a fine bright Taylor that I use principally for recording now, a relatively new classical that outclasses me and delights with its watery tone, and my old electric, an ESP strat, hand-built from parts by the legendary Mark Dann of Greenwich Village (a talented bass player who was a mainstay of the “Speakeasy” and “Fast Folk” singer-songwriter crowd).

I love all my instruments, of course. But not equally.

Approaching 60 years of age, I wonder now at the future of me and my guitars. Will they outlast me, or me them? If I live to my 80s, will I have as much pleasure in the composition or repetition of a song as I did sitting on a Greyhound bus in 1980s, crossing some piece of the US while lightly plucking the metal strings, creating whispers of sound so as not to wake the sleepers around me, finding the right progression or hammer-stroke to illustrate the ache in the middle of a moment of beauty?

There is a certain ding, a concave depression in the shape of a fingernail, on the lower face of my Martin that was acquired on that specific journey. The bus trip, the song, the moment when a loose buckle on my backpack smacked the soft wood of the Martin — I remember it all well.

And as long as I have that guitar, I always will.

Relaunching “Words&Music” – my personal newsletter

Dear reader,

This post invites you to sign up for my newsletter, Words&Music. Sign up here:

Now here’s the background:

In May 2018, I assumed a new professional position, working as Director of the Department of Partnership & Innovation at Sida, the Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency.

Becoming a public official in Sweden caused a number of other changes in my life, including (of course) the closure of my consulting business, as well as handing off or stepping down from many projects that I had pursued for years. I was fortunate to have a network of wonderful colleagues, formerly called the “AtKisson Group,” to whom I could pass on certain initiatives and products — the tools I created, for example, are now managed by the Sustainability Accelerator Network. To get the story of this transition in full, see the final edition of my company newsletter, WaveFront, which is published here:

But while I have stopped being a consultant, I continue to be a writer and a musician, and I continue to work in the field of sustainable development. Here on my personal website, I will continue to post information about my books, articles, poems, songs, music, and whatever else I come up with. And I will continue to blog and post on Twitter and other social media.

To keep interested readers up to date, I have also (re-)launched a new (old) email newsletter, called “Words&Music”. There are certain overlaps between the newsletter and this website, but they are not identical. My blog includes public statements and is focused largely on professional matters. Words&Music is a private, personal letter, sent irregularly, about unpredictable topics. It’s free of course, but you have to actively sign up if you want to receive it.

Sign up for Words&Music here >>

When you sign up, you will receive the first Welcome email. It will tell you about the inspiration for Words&Music (via my mentor Donella Meadows and her “Dear Folks” letters). And it will lead you to — among other things — the under-construction website for my 1997 long poem, Chronosphere.

It’s about time.


New Single: “We Love the SDGs”

I am happy to announce the release of my new single, “We Love the SDGs (Sustainable Development Goals)”, on iTunes, Spotify, Amazon, and all major streaming services. Video coming soon. Produced in Stockholm with Andreas Bauman, with Torbjörn ”Tobbe” Fall on guitar, Ulric Johansson on bass, and Magnus Fritz on percussion — many thanks, guys! You can always listen to my music for free, but if you purchase the song for download before New Year, I will donate 50% to refugee relief. Happy holidays!!


Coming Soon: An SDG Song

Preview-of-Video copy

What are they so happy about, I wonder?

If you have visited this blog recently, you may have noticed a password-protected page marked with a “Preview” sign, and titled with the phrase “We Love the SDGs”.

That’s the title of my new single. Yes, a song about the SDGs. And to make it even more interesting: it is highly dance-able.

When will this song be launched, you may wonder? As soon as we finish the video. Yes, the video, which has been shot, and is now being edited.

All of this activity is connected to the project I’ve been working on, with friends, on the side of my other professional consulting work (which is, currently, for the UN and several other clients).

That project is 17Goals, of course. Our new multi-stakeholder partnership and social media campaign to promote engagement with the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs).

Previously I wrote about why I am so enthusiastic about this project. And in fact, now that we are up and running, I am actually even more enthusiastic.

Initial response has been wonderful. Prominent organizations, and even government officials, have told me that they are using our 17Goals Intro Slides and other materials when they give presentations on the SDGs. That’s exactly what we wanted to happen.

And we continue to fill out our “curated” (that means highly selective) collection of tools and resources. My colleagues Lisa Baumgartel and Michael Blume deserve lots of credit for making the site look good (and function well), and Lisa is also helping a lot on the content side.

When the video is done … well, then things get really interesting. Bente Milton of Transition World in Denmark is working on that now, and I love the high-energy, big-joy concept she proposed. When we launch, we are going to launch big … and that means we will ask everyone we know to help spread this thing. We are doing to work really hard to make it go viral.

Because if we are successful, that will, in turn, draw people to the 17Goals site … and onward to the UN’s SDGs. Which, as you know, I believe to be one of the most important developments in contemporary global history.

So, apologies for not sharing the song with everyone, everywhere, already … but we want to get everything ready. And then …

The Top 10 List: Alan AtKisson’s Most Popular Songs (as of August 2015)

Top-ten-songsRecently I reviewed a combination of iTunes, Spotify, YouTube, and live-performance-request data, crunched the numbers through a secret algorithm, and came up with a “Top Ten” list. These are the songs that seem to be the “most popular” (at the moment) of those on the six albums I currently have in public release. The exact order may vary, depending on what’s currently happening on social media etc. Album links take you to iTunes website — because I actually earn money there, you can preview all the songs, and from there you can get to the iTunes app. But you can also search and find these songs on any major streaming service.


  1. Set the World Right Again (from American Troubadour)

A hard-driving, “surprisingly hopeful” (as one listener put it) folk-rock song, with a hint of Japanese influence, that was selected as “Climate Song of the Week” by the UNFCCC in August 2015 as part of the run-up to the Paris climate summit. Torbjörn Fall plays a killer guitar solo in the middle. Got a big boost from multiple Twitter feeds. (For the background story to this song, click here.)

  1. Exponential Growth (from Believing Cassandra)

The iTunes most-popular song on this album — released in 1999 as a “musical companion” to the book of the same name — is also one that I have used widely in presentations around the world. Anybody who hears it never forgets the chorus (people tell me). It’s better when you see it live.

  1. Nothin’ At All (from Testing the Rope)

This is the most popular song from my debut album — according to iTunes, at least. It’s a relationship break-up song, and as bleak as they come. (“Take off, and I’ll just stay here / I’ve got more than enough, with nothin’ at all.”) But I still enjoy performing it.

  1. The Strangely Popular Lichen Song (from Whole Lotta Shoppin’ Goin’ On)

The highest-selling song from my comedy album is true to its name: even I find it strange that the “Lichen Song” became so (relatively) popular. I guess it’s because it is used as a teaching aid, to explain the symbiotic biology of the lichen, with the chorus built around the old line, “Freddy Fungus and Alice Algae took a LICHEN to each other.”

  1. The Parachuting Cats (from Whole Lotta Shoppin’ Goin’ On)

An oft-requested ditty in live situations, and also the second most popular song on this comedy album (says iTunes). The Parachuting Cats tells the supposedly (and mostly) true story of the WHO’s attempt to eradicate malaria on Borneo in the 1950’s, using DDT, with systemically disastrous results. It also closes my TEDx talk. (For the real scientific story, revealed in glorious academic detail, click here.)

  1. God Speaks (from Falcon, Storm, or Song)

This song has sold more the most copies on iTunes of any other song from this exceedingly simple guitar-and-voice demo-album, which sets 12 poems from Rilke’s “Book of Hours” – as translated into English by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows – to music. The album is also the musical score to a one-man musical play about Rilke’s life and letters. While Rilke’s poetry is written in a religious voice, I think he is writing about life in general. The song could easily be called “Life Speaks.”

  1. What Kind of World (from Believing Cassandra)

An upbeat, inspirational pop song, which got some airplay on the American TV show “Good Morning America” (in 2011 and 2012) and was also used by friends in Indonesia as the soundtrack to their slideshow on visioning. Surprisingly (to me) it was also the second most-sold song on the “Believing Cassandra” album. Thanks to the TV airplay, I even made a little money on it.

  1. Dead Planet Blues (from Whole Lotta Shoppin’ Goin’ On)

My first envirosong, written way back in 1990, and still a frequent request at live performances … even though its core message is over 25 years old. The problem that the song mostly addresses — through the imagined voice of a deity, drinking in some cosmic bar for deities, complaining sarcastically about those “little life-forms that became self-aware” — is now mostly solved: we rescued the planet from the ozone hole. But hey, with a few lyrical tweaks, it’s a new song, focused on global warming … and it’s current once again.

  1. Balaton (from Testing the Rope)

“The ancient engines turn their gears / The sound of fire swiftly nears …”  This song of lament, memory, and hope does not show up in any of my sales data. But it makes the list, because among the people for whom it was written — the members of the Balaton Group, a network of sustainability researchers and practitioners — it has become a traditional “must-sing” at every annual meeting. I also translated this song into French for a similar meeting of sustainability thinkers and doers; it worked en français, too.

  1. System Zoo (from Believing Cassandra)

While this song is not so popular in digital sales, an old live performance from 2001 (filmed in Australia) is far and away my most-watched-video on YouTube. Over 10,000 people have viewed it. I think people who are trying to explain systems thinking to other people like this song.

   Also 10 (This was a tie). The GDP Song (from Whole Lotta Shoppin’ Goin’ On)

This one makes the list because of the frequency with which it has been requested at live performances: people seem to enjoy singing along, in “Latvian”, to an upbeat folk tune about terrible happenings that perversely drive up our primary measure of economic growth. I stole the melody from a Latvian drinking song. Thanks, Latvia! I’ll send you some money someday.

Honorable Mention:

Maxie (the Manatee) (from American Troubadour)

Based on the true story of the wild manatee that befriended my family when I was a child. This song sits on the top of the “Bestsellers” ranking for the American Troubadour album — at least, when iTunes sorts it that way. I can’t say I’ve seen that popularity reflected in the actual sales figures, but some people love that song. I certainly loved that manatee. In fact, I love manatees generally, and they truly are in trouble. Ergo, the “honourable mention.”

Story of a Song: “Set the World Right Again”

50songs50stories_book_coverSince this week the UNFCCC is featuring “Set the World Right Again” as its “Climate Song of the Week,” here is the story behind the song. This is the second excerpt from my book-in-progress, “50 Songs, 50 Stories.” – Alan

Some songs start as a vague idea, some as a line of specific words. Some songs grow out of an experience you want to capture. And some just emerge out of your guitar. You start fooling around on your instrument, and you discover something you like. One musical phrase suggests another, which leads to something else, and all those “somethings” link up together (with a little work) to become the skeleton of a song. Then the skeleton needs some flesh, in the form of a melody, which usually “sings itself” out of the chords when you start experimenting with a little free humming. Last but not least (in this version of how things can go, the process always varies) comes the text, the script that this new song — with its specific energy and feeling, its special atmosphere and intention — is meant to deliver to listeners, every time they hear it.

That’s how the process went with “Set the World Right Again.” I went through three different sets of lyrics before I finally understood what this song wanted to be about.

The first version was a love song — frankly, a pathetic lyric that did not stand up to the power of the music, so I tore it up and started from scratch. My second attempt was no better, and I began to despair of ever finding the song’s true voice. But I loved the way this music made my body swing, so I kept trying.

Or rather, I stopped trying. I relaxed, and listened.

I asked myself: what do I hear? This song is obviously about urgency. What is most urgent thing in my life? That’s easy: my work. What is my work about? What is sustainable development about?

That year, 2009, was the year of the great climate change summit in Copenhagen, “CoP-15.”  (“CoP” stands for “Conference of the Parties,” and refers to those nations who had signed the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change back in 1992. It was their 15th meeting.) I would be attending that conference in my role as a consultant to the United Nations, and presenting a paper on an ambitious new plan for scaling up renewable energy, around the world. Climate change, the “fire that you can’t put out,” was very much on my mind — and in my heart.

In professional situations like UN conferences, one does not talk much about emotions. One might express a feeling of “irritation” that negotiations are going so slowly, or even admit that the lack of progress is “disappointing” — but one does not have much room to express depression, grief, or fury at those who are trying to sow confusion and discord (as some try actively to do). There is precious little room for despair at the thought of the bleak future that a failure to reach agreement might seriously entail.

Nor, it turns out, is there much room to express serious hope, either. Expressing one’s longing for success, one’s faith in the future, in deeply emotional terms is almost as taboo as weeping at the prospect that future generations may never see a polar bear, may become refugees when their land is drowned, may struggle to grow enough food in a globally warmed world.

Taboo or not, emotion is always in the room — even a room the size of Copenhagen’s Bella Centre, where CoP-15 gathered so many thousands of officials, experts, and activists. Indeed, if one was really paying attention, one could read a certain over-arching emotional tone in that giant conference center, a feeling that seemed to color everything that was said and nearly every interaction, even in such a huge and diverse coming-together of people from so many different countries and cultures. At CoP-15, I would have called that feeling “desperate hope”: choosing optimism, and making great effort, despite seemingly impossible odds.

And that, I finally realized, was what this song is about.


Set the World Right Again

Words and Music © 2009 by Alan AtKisson


Like a fire that you can’t put out

A bad dream that you can’t stop thinking about

An experiment you shouldn’t have run

This world is a child with a gun


You want to put the train on some new track

End the tragedy before they start the last act

Get the help of every woman and man

Stop the madness any way you can

            And set the world right again

            As if none of this had ever been

            Let the story have a happy ending

            Set the world right again


Your objective is to turn the tide

In a game of risk and danger – and you have to choose sides

It’s a game you have no choice but to play

And you wonder if there’s any way

            To set the world right again

            As if none of this had ever been

            Let the story have a happy ending

            Set the world right again


            There are voices that say that it’s already too late

            There are voices that drown out each other in debate

            There are voices that claim that there’s no place to start

            But the only voice to listen to

            Is the voice in your heart


In the end it all comes down to love

What you care enough about to be the champion of

And believe no matter how hard it seems

That it’s possible to live this dream

            And set the world right again

            As if none of this had ever been

            Let the story have a happy ending

            Set the world right again


            Set the world right again …


You can find “Set the World Right Again” on iTunes, Amazon, Spotify, YouTube, and most streaming services.

Story of a Song: “Goin’ to the Top”

50songs50stories_book_coverFirst in a series of entries that will eventually be gathered into a book with the working title, “50 Songs, 50 Stories”.

This entry tells the story of “Goin’ to the Top” — originally written for Aaron Neville, at the request of a New Orleans’ business leader. But the road to that song went via Sydney, Australia, with many twists and turns along the way …  – Alan

I became a musician in no small part because I was awarded a scholarship to attend Tulane University in New Orleans. The scholarship was not in music — I was a science and math nerd — but I had sung in a couple of bands in high school and performed in the school talent show with an Elton John medley on piano. I grew up singing in my mother’s church choir. I loved music. So one of the first things I did on arrival at Tulane University was to audition for the university’s jazz and pop music ensemble, the “Tulanians.”

This band of a dozen singers and a dozen instrumentalists was (fortunately) far more than a glee club. Under the direction of the late Leland Bennett, who also directed one of New Orleans’ best professional show bands (“Jubilation”), it was an excellent training ground in both musicianship and showmanship. We learned a challenging, ultra-modern repertoire. We learned to sing and dance and hold a large crowd. The Tulanians were serious business, and experience gained there nurtured the careers of numerous future professionals who went on to careers in New York, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles.

I spent less than two years with the Tulanians, but it was a formative time. I sang a few of the big solo numbers in our shows (if you want to hear a funny story about “Serpentine Fire” sometime, just ask me). Leland invited me to sub for his lead male singer in Jubilation as well, and that first paycheck turned me into a “professional”. The Tulanians went on tour, and sang in Washington, DC and at Disney World, Florida. It was at a Tulanians show that I first debuted as a guitarist and singer-songwriter, with my friend and roommate Mark Beatty. (Mark had composed a lovely little guitar lick, and needed lyrics, so I wrote some words. Our joint composition became my, and our, first publicly performed song, “Dancer.”)

Thanks to Leland Bennet and the Tulanians, and the wonderful culture of New Orleans, I gained the confidence to call myself a musician.

Twenty years and several careers later, I was invited back to Tulane to give a lecture at a conference on environmental law. My former philosophy professor, Michael Zimmerman, was now a good friend. He in turn had an old friend named Pres Kabacoff, a business leader in New Orleans. Pres, who was a bit left-leaning in his politics, had recruited his old friend (and competitor in the real estate sector) Quentin Dastugue to co-chair a new economic development initiative under the aegis of a regional business group. And that group invited me to give them a presentation.

So I found myself talking to a group of 30 business leaders about what a regional program of sustainability indicators could do for them: how it could help them knit that fractious region together and contribute to a common vision for the ten counties (or “parishes”) around New Orleans. I finished and sat down. Then the chairman said, “That was a very good presentation, Mr. AtKisson, but I am a little disappointed, because we heard that you also sing.”

This remark came as a shock. I had assumed that the last thing that a group of button-down New Orleans business leaders would want from me was a song — but here it was, a put-you-on-the-spot request that could not be refused. So I duly stood back up and delivered an á capella version of my song “The Parachuting Cats.” (You can see a version of this at the end of my TEDx talk on YouTube.) The song brought smiles and warm applause — and it helped me win a large contract for my consulting firm.

About a year into our regional project, Quentin Dastugue — a somewhat larger-than-life business figure also known for his very conservative politics — took me to lunch. This lunch was of the two-martini variety. The second martini made it hard to say no when Quentin presented me with another musical request: he believed that our regional initiative, which was called “Top 10 by 2010,” was in need of a theme song. You, he said, are just the man to write it.

I was hesitant, but Quentin upped the ante. He could probably get Aaron Neville — the undisputed king of New Orleans’ jazz-rock — to sing the song.

How could I not say yes?

A few months later, with the final celebration of our initiative just weeks away, I was still struggling to compose an appropriate theme song. “Top 10 by 2010” was an enormously ambitious initiative. The regional goal was to move up into the top 10 of the Forbes Magazine list of “Best Places to Live and Work in the United States” within ten years. At the time, New Orleans was down around number 200.

On a jet-laggy morning in Sydney, Australia, I woke before sunrise and walked to the Sydney Opera House, seeking inspiration. I thought about my friends and clients back in New Orleans. In our interviews and surveys, we had learned that one of the missing ingredients in the region was not just a clear future vision, but even the capacity to imagine a better future. Many people seemed to lack the willingness to imagine positive change. “Life in our region has always been this way,” they would say. “Why should we believe things will ever change?”

The New Orleans region, in those years before Hurricane Katrina came and destroyed so much of that great city, was already in need of serious encouragement.

I pulled out my notebook, sitting there by the Opera House, looking out over waters half a planet away from New Orleans, and the lyrics to “Goin’ to the Top” — built around the image of flying swiftly up a mountain — flowed easily out of my pen. Later, so did the music: all I had to do was imagine Aaron Neville’s beautiful tenor-falsetto, and all the wonderful nuances he would bring to those words.

But as the time approached for the Big Event — a one-day forum, followed by an evening dance party, celebrating the success of the first stages of Top 10 by 2010 — it became clear that Aaron Neville was not going to be available to sing “Goin’ to the Top.” It became equally clear, from both Pres and Quention, that I was expected to step into that gap, and perform the song myself. So I quickly wrote a chord sheet, and worked quickly with the band that had been hired for the event to teach them the song. Their lead guitarist was watching my fingers like a hawk as I played it on my acoustic guitar; the rhythm section quickly figured out the simple pop-song structure. The performance itself was rough … but it worked.

Then a dozen years passed.

Prior to being recorded in 2013 for my album American Troubadour, “Goin’ to the Top” was only performed that one time, and it was not sung by Aaron Neville, but by me, the “singing sustainability consultant,” stepping back on stage in the Crescent City of New Orleans for the first time since I had left that extraordinary musical training ground, twenty years earlier.

These days, I dedicate “Goin’ to the Top” to the people who have been working, for many years now, to rebuild New Orleans after the Hurricane Katrina disaster … and also to the people working for sustainability everywhere who need to hold on to the vision that we will, in fact, “be there.”

Listen to this song on iTunes:

(Also available on Spotify, YouTube and other streaming sites.)


Goin’ to the Top

Words and music © 2001 by Alan AtKisson

The sky is bright
Streaks of light
And we know this isn’t any ordinary night
You know it’s true
‘Cause me and you
And everybody here can see
     Goin’ to the top
     We’ve got know that we’re goin’
     Nothing can stand in your way
     When you make your own road
     Goin’ to the top
     We’ve got to feel that it’s comin’
     I believe it’s our time to stand
     In the promised land
Don’t look down
We’re off the ground
And we’re never ever going to stop or turn around
Gaining speed
Guess we’ll need
To get ready for a very fast climb

     Goin’ to the top
     We’ve got know that we’re going
     Nothing can stand in your way
     When you make your own road
     Goin’ to the top
     We’ve got to know that we’ll be there
     I believe it’s our time to stand
     In the promised land

We used to think we’d never be here
We used to think we’d couldn’t fly
But now we know that we belong here
And all we had to do was try
Can you see
What I see
We’re coming closer to a new reality
So take my hand
‘Cause when we land
We’ll be standin’ on the top of the world
     Goin’ to the top …