| When the heat rises up to the point of maximum temperature
|
| To give birth to the flame
|
| The fountain of passion showers high
|
| New ways emerge in the endless search
|
| For the expression supreme
|
| And the true value of art
|
| What does it take to feel it and make it real?
|
| Maybe you must deal with insanity or steel
|
| When we are at the forge
|
| Of creation, but who knows
|
| What lights up the torch
|
| Illuminating the process for all those?
|
| Those who are at the forge
|
| When the steam burns your skin
|
| And the mood is getting all so constrained
|
| And the flame’s dying down
|
| The fountain of passion dried up… suddenly
|
| No way out, there’s nothing you can do about
|
| It but call it a day
|
| And this night isn’t fine, by the way
|
| What does it take to feel it and make it real?
|
| Maybe you must deal with insanity or steel
|
| When we are at the forge
|
| Of creation, but who knows
|
| What lights up the torch
|
| Illuminating the process for all those?
|
| Those who are at the forge
|
| When we are at the forge
|
| Of creation, but who knows
|
| What lights up the torch
|
| Illuminating the process, whoa
|
| When we are at the forge
|
| Of creation, but who knows
|
| What lights up the torch
|
| Illuminating the process for all those?
|
| Those who are at the forge
|
| To create or come up with something that is to thrill
|
| One must place one’s soul between
|
| The hammer and the anvil |