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• Artiste: Peter Murphy
• Titre: Tale Of The Tongue
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The time is coming ripeWe are running fastI see you coming closerCloser to the maskCome closer treat me softlyWhere can the dreamer be?How far we've come to knowHow much we've come to seeAnd when I ask you softlyOh what the real men sawAs I hit the roof againOh what the dreamer sawThe street still screamsThe street still screams of garbage thoughtsThe stain of anxious guysStill we glimpse the faintest noteOf some battered somnambulant menOf the desire to know the whysThe street still screamsFixed notions fashion themTheir rules police the streetNo chance of Latin wayHold down to crude beliefLassoed in the charges' webLocked inside the nation's prideTo boast the red of freedom's moveThey take the purple sideI'm told from day to dayGaol slip from behindWe are the guards of our mistakesOff and running blindSo the dreamer speaks in time drunk wineTake the coming dayIf I seem to lag behindWhisper me the wayThe street still screams