(S. Weber/M. Schumpelt/J.O. Soerup)
moonlit balconies, I'm not too far from where You are
I am stepping that door
and heaven comes to who who waits
I wonder why you lost your faith
in a gambling spree
falling into reveries
so quiet in here, so peaceful here
a sad affair to know there's no one near me now
watch me bleed, I'm bleeding forever
watch me bleed, I'm bleeding forever
evening's fading in the candle glow
I'm full but I'm feeling empty
so many dreams that don't come true
I miss Your heart beating next to mine
foghorns blowing in the night
I'm sailing for some other shore
for one so young
I feel so cold
watch me bleed
no, don't pretend that You can
justify the pain and the cries
it's all too late, my dear
your face now like a photograph
when it's all too late ...just fading out
oh, watch me bleed, watch me bleed
I'm bleeding forever
oh, watch me bleed, watch me bleed
I'm dying slowly
leaving the showWalking from the scene of some humiliation feeling like a dog.
Walking from the scene of some romantic triumph feeling like God.
Walk towards the small town lights, felt brighter than the lot of them
Can have anything, can never fail.
The will to power, the force of destiny and efficiency.
Generations glimpse the high pitch, play it for real, four billion spectators look on;
Judging, analysing, losing; sinking, swimming, striving, longing, failing.
Weak flesh projected through Europe on speed of all the needs;
Suck and sate, forces of fate.
A polemic, a sharp cutter, a fashion, a spirit, a simplicity.
The only choice, the only voice, in the darkness.
The only choice, the only voice.
1933, where are you now? Where are the broken bottles? Where's the toffs slumming it?
Where's the fanaticism? Where's truth and beauty?
Walk towards the small town lights, felt brighter than the lot of them
Can have anything, can never fail.
The will to power, the force of destiny and efficiency.
Generations glimpse the high pitch, play it for real, four billion spectators look on;
Judging, analysing, losing; sinking, swimming, striving, longing, failing.
Weak flesh projected through Europe on speed of all the needs;
Suck and sate, forces of fate.
A polemic, a sharp cutter, a fashion, a spirit, a simplicity.
The only choice, the only voice, in the darkness.
The only choice, the only voice.
1933, where are you now? Where are the broken bottles?
Where's the fanaticism? Where's truth and beauty? Where's truth and beauty? ... here's truth and beauty? Where's truth and beauty? ...