The Birth Of The True

(álbum: Knife - 1984)

I feel the magic that our time has traced
Make a point of it in every place
But every place deserves a curse or two
For making me so far away from you

I saw some pictures of the world at war
Couldn't suss what all the fuss was for
I wear a picture of you wearing black
And kissing me behind the butlers back

Sometimes I get down
But it's not you that gets me down
It's just that sense of the impossible
Gratuitously handed down

But oh no, not you
Don't wipe your eyes over lies
Just let them shine their blue
On every whisper that welcomes the inconceivable
And the birth of the true

I'd sack the world and make a second start
Sack my head until I found my heart
Sack the world and make a red parade
To burn the banks down while the bugles played

Sometimes I get down
But it's not you that gets me down
It's just that sense of the impossible
Gratuitously handed down

But oh no, not you
Don't wipe your eyes over lies
Just let them shine their blue
On every whisper that welcomes the inconceivable
And the birth of the true

On every whisper that welcomes the unbelievable
And the birth of the true

On every whisper that welcomes the inconceivable
And the birth of the true