Words and music by Roddy Frame
|
|
|
I feel the magic that our time has traced,
|
And 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,
|
I couldn't suss what all the fuss was for,
|
I wear a picture of you wearing black,
|
And kissing me behind the butler's back.
|
|
Sometimes I get down,
|
But it's not you that gets me down,
|
It's just the sense of the impossible,
|
Gratuitously handed down.
|
|
Chorus:
|
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,
|
I'd sack my head until I found my heart,
|
I'd fill the distance with a red parade,
|
And burn the banks down while the bugles played.
|
|
Sometimes I get down,
|
But it's not you that gets me down,
|
It's just the sense of the impossible,
|
Gratuitously handed down.
|
|
Chorus
|
|
-----------------
|
The Birth of the True
|
| Aztec Camera |
