Текст: Matt Goss. The Key.

:
From behind the door, i feel a breeze
A scent of living, that was meant to please me
From behind the door i hear a whisper as
Soft as a picture, carved from water
As i slide the iron plate below the handle
A shaft of light hits me like a million candles
I see the forest, a ballroom, i see an empty street
Like a thousand puzzles ready to complete

I see every colour and colours that aren't invented
I see golden medals that are yet to be presented
For the only time i get pleasure from torment
I cannot touch, i can only see
But the pure desire, to touch the living scent
But to open up the door, i need

I need the key etc.

On statuette, what are you defending
Your marble smile, seems kinda condescending
Don't try the patience of an impatient man
If you can't fight, don't fight a man that can

I see every colour and colours that aren't invented
I see golden medals that are yet to be presented
For the only time i get pleasure from torment
I cannot touch, i can only see
But the pure desire, to touch this living scent
But to open up the door, i need

I need the key etc.

Pure desire to touch the living scent etc.

I need the key (to fade)