Ain't looking back in anger

I work through long periods of silence, when the noise outside looks like some silent farcical mime

I don’t work actually, but let my haphazard thoughts rummage through my mind

I waste the precious moments of my life – many, many years went by like this – in the trivial, trying to keep my bastardly egotism alive

I want to believe, but nothing comes my way; probably I’m not a believer                                                                             
                                                                                                                           
I had read and dreamt about the magic mountains when I was a child, sitting in the low plains and hoping to go there some day

What do you lose? What is there to lose? What is there to lose anyway?