We all have secret lives. In our secret rooms. Living in our movies. Humming our own tunes. . Living life in camera. When the night is closing dovn. Sliding into darkness.
How happy is the human soul?. Not enslaved by dull control. Left to dream and roam an' play. Shed the guilt of former days. . Walking on the foggy shore.
Here I sit alone at the window. The rain falls down on the glass in the cold. All my life I've been waiting for this moment. It never came, maybe it never will.
On and on. . Born in a mining town in 58. When black and white T.V. was up to date and men were still around. Who fought for freedom, stood their ground and died.
The mark is on you now. The furnace sealed inside your head. Melting from the inside now. Waxy tears run down your face. . The whore that never told her tale.
A silent river flowin' black. Strange attractors, no turnin' back. Present danger I recall. That pins my senses to the wall. . Back from the edge. (Back from the edge).
There, on a lonely desert hilltop. The pilgrims huddle closer. Waiting for a sign, the coming silver shrine. The arc of space and time. . Truth, oh, the truth is never clear.
Journey back to the dark side, back into the womb. Back to where the spirits move like vapor from the tomb. The center of the cyclone, blowing out the sun.
You can sail in the desert with a ship of fools. You can smuggle in Moses and his book of rules. But you can't take a mother and give her back her son.