| So here we stand at the edge of 1984, bracing ourselves once again
|
| For the storm approaching as those who long before huddled in caves from the
|
| rain
|
| The enemy’s face is so hard to see, sometimes it seems that I see him in you
|
| Sometimes in me, who can he be? |
| No use consulting the prophets and leaders
|
| they all disagree
|
| Russians and Americans, here’s a song for you
|
| Who carry the weight of the world on your heads
|
| Russians and Americans, tell me if it’s true
|
| You really believe all the things that you’ve said
|
| The red-white-and-blue running into the red
|
| From the wars of Europe, the pilgrim fathers set off with their hopes and their
|
| bond
|
| Some settled down by the coast, others crossed the mountains and into the
|
| flatlands beyond
|
| From scramble and dust of Muscovite streets, merchants develop the trade routes
|
| and open the door to the East
|
| Pioneer waves choked by the cold breath of winter or baked by the heat of the
|
| day
|
| Russians and Americans, passing through the fire
|
| Of revolution and coming of age
|
| Russians and Americans, driven by desire
|
| Two players push to the front of the stage
|
| The whole world now watches each move that you make
|
| Two runners caught in the thrill of the race, the finishing line is as far as
|
| the stars that the satellites chase
|
| Why quicken the pace? |
| Why does it seem that you choose to lose reason before
|
| losing face?
|
| Russians and Americans, driven by the past
|
| The third world moves in the shadows you cast
|
| Russians and Americans could turn the world to dust
|
| So much to live for, so much undiscussed
|
| So much in common and so little trust
|
| From the streets of Athens and Rome, the voices still echo to crumbling walls
|
| Look to the past and remember no empire rises that sooner or later won’t fall
|
| Forever the changes we still have to face, some people say that a country is
|
| more and idea than a place
|
| Though nothing is safe, we still choose the mark that we leave on the open
|
| canvas of space
|
| Russians and Americans
|
| Maybe you should see into the heart of the world, not its head
|
| Russians and Americans
|
| If you want to be the feet of the world, better mind where you tread
|
| The footprints of history are left where you step
|
| So here we stand at the edge of 1984 |