Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Blind Curve: Vocal Under a Bloodlight / Passing Strangers / Mylo / Perimeter Walk / Threshold, artist - Marillion. Date of issue: 20.07.2017
Song language: English
Blind Curve: Vocal Under a Bloodlight / Passing Strangers / Mylo / Perimeter Walk / Threshold |
| Last night you said I was cold, untouchable |
| A lonely piece of action from another town |
| I just want to be free, I’m happy to be lonely |
| Can’t you stay away? |
| Just leave me alone with my thoughts |
| Just a runaway, just a runaway, I’m saving myself |
| Strung out below a necklace of carnival lights |
| Cold moan, held on the crest of the night |
| I’m too tired to fight |
| So now we’re passing strangers, at single tables |
| Still trying to get over, still trying to write love songs for passing strangers |
| All those passing strangers |
| And the twinkling lies, all those twinkling lies |
| Sparkle with the wet ink on the paper |
| Oh I remember Toronto when Mylo went down |
| And we sat and we cried on the phone |
| I never felt so alone |
| He was the first of our own |
| Some of us go down in a blaze of obscurity |
| Some of us go down in a haze of publicity |
| The price of infamy, the edge of insanity |
| Another Holiday Inn, another temporary home |
| And an interviewer threatened me with a microphone |
| 'talk to me, won’t you tell me your stories. |
| ' |
| So I talked about conscience and I talked about pain |
| And he looked out the window and it started to rain |
| I thought maybe I’ve already gone crazy |
| So I reached for a bottle and he reached for the door |
| And I picked up the sleeping pills crushed on the floor |
| Inviting me to a casual obscenity |
| It would be incredible if we could retrace all the times that we lived here |
| All the collisions |
| Wasted, I’ve never been so wasted |
| I’ve never been this far out before |
| Perimeter walk |
| There’s a presence here |
| I feel could have been ancient, I could have been mystical |
| There’s a presence |
| A childhood, my childhood |
| My childhood, childhood |
| A misplaced childhood |
| My childhood, a misplaced childhood |
| Give it back to me, give it back to me |
| A childhood, that childhood, that childhood, that childhood, that childhood |
| Oh please give it back to me |
| I saw a war widow in a launderette |
| Washing the memories from her husband’s clothes |
| She had medals pinned to a threadbare greatcoat |
| A lump in her throat with cemetery eyes |
| I see convoys curbcrawling West German autobahns |
| Trying to pick up a war |
| They’re going to even the score |
| Oh… I can’t take any more |
| I see black flags on factories |
| Soup ladles poised on the lips of the poor |
| I see children with vacant stares, destined for rape in the alleyways |
| Does anybody care, I can’t take any more! |
| Should we say goodbye? |
| Hey |
| I see priests, politicians? |
| The heroes in black plastic body-bags under nations' flags |
| I see children pleading with outstretched hands, drenched in napalm, |
| this is no Vietnam |
| I can’t take any more, should we say goodbye |
| How can we justify? |
| They call us civilised! |