jan blomqvist

lyrics

WINTER ROADS (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Sept 2017)
Kurt was a stranger tho,
he just wanted to say ‘Hey Hello’.
The stranger gets stranger tho
as your eyes give no Hello.
Like on the streets transparent looks,
easier to just say, ‘Hello’.
And maybe we overstate to push us
to fucking wake up, Hell Oh.
It’s dark on the road tonight,
then another light, Hello?
The dead canary waits
down the mine to say, ‚Hello’.
And on the streets the cameras know,
smile and wave, ‚Hello’.
Hmm what's on the other side?
Open the curtain wide, say ‘Hey Hello’.
Kurt was a stranger tho,
he just wanted to say ‘Hey Hello’.
The stranger gets stranger tho
as your eyes give no Hello.
Like on the streets transparent looks,
easier to just say, ‘Hello’.
And maybe we overstate to push us
to fucking wake up, Hell Oh.
Fucking wake up
And on the street the cameras know…
And maybe we overstate to push us
to fucking wake up, Hell Oh.
Fucking wake up!
Fucking wake up!
Fucking wake up!
Fucking wake up!
It’s dark on the road tonight, fucking wake up!
The dead canary waits, fucking wake up!
And on the street the cameras know, fucking wake up!
What's on the other side? Open the curtain wide, fucking wake up!
And maybe we overstate to push us
to fucking wake up, Hell Oh.

STORIES OVER (Ryan Mathiesen, Feb 2014)
Once upon a time ago...
Wait, that story's over, yeah.
Now it’s there on the street,
looking at everyone
like a stranger.
And it’s what you make it
Yeah it’s what you make it.
No it’s what we make it.
Is everyone asking
‘How far will they take it?’
can anyone say,
losing trust?
Losing what we had made it.
Nothing to replace
the net to catch our fall.
They who know the night
are the one’s who own the teacher
and the teacher owns the day.
We can't stop the train
and we can't start it either.
Choosing to doubt
that we were ever really meant to be free.
So turn and face the day
cuz they who own the teachers
are the teachers of today

MORE (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Mar 2015)
Don't wanna get old.
Don't wanna die young.
I’m buyin’ their cold
void satisfaction.
Our poison each day,
my reason to stay.
New feelings in store.
Alright gimme more.
Alright gimme more.
We could have been the ones
who cut the screen at once.
We should have seen the ones
who turned machines at once.
We could have been the ones
who left the scene at once.
We could have been the ones
who took the streets at once.
We could have been the ones
who left the scene at once.
Never gets old,
my sad addiction.
Letters now bold
the saddest fiction.
Don’t wanna buy gold,
don’t wanna buy love.
‘Cuz now it is all sold.
There’s never enough.
It’s never enough.
We could have been the ones
who cut the screen at once.
We should have seen the ones
who turned machines at once.
We could have been the ones
who left the scene at once.
We could have been the ones
who took the streets at once.

MORE (EXTENDEND ENDPART) (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Mar 2015)
In a white dress
it’s the last test,
the forms of time
they repeat again.
Like a black dress
in the darkness,
the truth between
the lines again.
Always broken,
never open
hearts are beating
inside a can.
Nothing spoken
never woken
put to sleep by
invisible hands.

EMPTY FLOORS (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Nov 2014)
Emma wants the secret to be told,
that the fucking rainbow has no gold.
And she knows exactly what to say,
confusing it completely the next day.
And we just wanna feel something we're not
forget about the limits that we got.
Like you’re losing your senses,
abusing them too much.
Your never-ending dance is
endlessly untouched.
The illusion of chances
confusing you too much.
Another try at breaking fences
seem to fall with just a touch.
Emma lays beside you on the floor
but you can't even reach her anymore.
The unsaid always talks to you at night
and you don't even know you get it right.
The days are passing by as they do,
so Emma wants to stop the time with you.
Like you’re losing your senses
abusing them too much.
Your never-ending dance is
endlessly untouched.
And nothing has changed here
but maybe something there got lost.
Runnin' against the grain still
so keep your fingers crossed.
Emma knows exactly how you feel
but you cant even ask if this is real.
Recorded voice cracks in 'please hold the line’.
Was the floor this empty all the time?
All the time, all the time…

HER GREAT ESCAPE (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Nov 2014)
The great escape
subscribe today.
And tomorrow is yesterday
like a movie on replay.
‘Tonight’, she said
‘Pack your bags instead.
And we're getting out of here right now.
White rabbits disappear, here’s how.’
She said:
‘All that we need, fucking refuse,
stop to believe in what's in our news.
Follow the shadow of the disguise
withered and hollow like the new lies.
We played the game, we couldn't breathe,
we're all the same, we're not enemies.
Lets get away if just in mind.
Be my escape oh baby be my escape’
Tonight we make,
we make our great escape.
Let’s break the broken tape right now.
Come on let’s blank the slate for now
and black the page tonight.
Cuz we’re all in,
cards falling.
It’s our calling
keep falling.
She said,
‘All that we need, fucking refuse,
stop to believe in what's in our news.
Follow the shadow of the disguise
withered and hollow like the new lies.
We played the game, we couldn't breathe,
we're all the same, we're not enemies.
Let’s get away if just in mind.
Be my escape, oh baby be my escape’.
‘Let’s get away, let’s get away’, she said’.

DARK NOISE (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, May 2015)
Look what we've done,
we almost have made it.
We’re jumping the gun
and we celebrated.
The damage is done,
we haven't yet paid it.
What have I become?
What have we created?
I'm the darkness in
your mind again,
just beneath the skin
wearing you thin.
I am the distortion
your reflection.
When you let me in
I can be your friend.
Can I escape it,
the dark that we've done?
Feels like a jaded
old man on the run.
Is it too late yet,
the damage undone?
Things are related
where did we go wrong?
Cuz I am the noise you heard,
the bite in the bitter words.
I’m painting the scene absurd.
Remember the coldness hurts.
Cuz I am the darkness in
your mind again.
I’m knocking to come back in
I’m your oldest friend.

DRIFT (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Jun 2015)
Gimme chemicals, gimme chemicals.
I need more chemicals, more chemicals.
Graffiti wisdom written on the wall.
Quote of the decade, on the bathroom stall,
‘Your gonna let me forget who we are
your gonna get me back to the start’.
Over the music, time talks fast,
can't even count back to how long it lasts.
Retina contracts, steps stop in their tracks.
Wine white like water, our false relax.
Moving like chemicals, on the floor,
almost mechanical, we’re after more.
Stay disconnected, the same as before
feeling defected, revolving doors.
So please gimme something to sleep at night
and some for later, to kill the light.
Then gimme something to feel the same
and some more chemicals to not feel ashamed.
Gimme chemicals, gimme chemicals...
Please gimme something to kill the pain
then gimme chemicals to feel again.
Every news story writing the same
vague international cold bloody game.
Prescribe me some glasses to block the sights
of rapists and killers and religious fights.
They’re throwing their chemicals into the fires,
those fucking fanatical chronicled liars.
And walk through sad forests, they're burning down,
can't breathe anymore from our dusty ground,
Cuz we're killing everything, to feed the towns.
Word on the street, 'we lost what we found’.
So what is an animal waiting in line?
Filled up with chemicals, doing hard time.
They see what they're in for, it’s crystalline.
Habitual killers, so genuine.
So who are the villains or who should be?
Don't know anymore what I should believe.
I'm losing a line through reality,
they're changing the words just to match the scene.
Gimme chemicals, gimme chemicals...

SAME MISTAKE (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Feb 2015)
The other room
comatose by all the screens,
blown away
by another perfect scene… I don’t care.
I’m so bored
all the real things can’t compete.
Hollywood,
paint my day so incomplete.
And every street I walk
and every place I sit
and every film I saw
almost ruined it.
And all the shiny things
that the picture brings
turn a normal day
into a cheap cliché.
You know what, you know what, you know what, you know what ..
Whatever we wanna get, we never get.
Keep on buying
all the things that we don't need
just to impress
all the ones that we don’t meet… I don’t care
I just regret
that I acted so damn fake.
You know what
you have made the same mistake.
And all the cigarettes
And all the talking heads
buying happiness
it just never rests.
And all the drugs we take
so we can sleep awake
and watch the colors fade,
broken masquerade.
you know what, you know what, you know what ..
Whatever we wanna get, we never get.

DANCING PEOPLE ARE NEVER WRONG (The bianca Story, 2010)
Is this my curtain call?
This town's a judgmental place,
and I'm unsure in any case.
It's not under my control,
they're taking aim for heart and soul
Not havin' an opinion at all
is what is left from doing all that research.
Is this the curtain call?
They're taking aim for heart and soul.
soul soul soul soul
soul soul soul soul
Is this the curtain call?
Curtain call,
under my control.
Is this the curtain call?
Curtain call,
under my control.
This town's a judgmental place,
and I'm unsure in any case.
It's not under my control.
they're taking aim for heart and soul.
The boxing in this old town,
gets me down, gets me down.
How can I keep control?
How can I keep control?

BACK IN THE TAXI (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Mar 2015)
Let’s take the backstreet though.
View from the backseat, whoa.
Mexico next week, go.
Don’t call just text me, no.
Please don't forget me, no.
Please baby let me go.
I don't regret it though.
You never get me wrong
Wasted but happy though.
Train station trapped me, oh.
Music kidnapped me, whoa.
I'm back in the taxi, now.
I tried to escape this maze.
I tried to displace this haze.
I tried to dissolve this taste.
When will the tapes be erased?
Let’s take the backstreet though.
View from the backseat, whoa.
I don't regret it, though.
You never get me, wrong.

GHOSTTRACK (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Oct 2010)
Haunting the romantics
and tainting our time.
From where'd they come?
Why do we have fixed ideas of love eh?
On your eyes they whisper,
telling what to see.
Telling you know me.
But is it me you say you see now?
Can you really live with none,
and see without expectation?
Would it be any fun,
love without expectation?
Can you really see me?
Do you even want to?
Illusions they are lovely,
being in control,
hearing what you want
reading into people what you want to.
Your mind speaks in whispers,
always filtering.
But where are you? You know?
and are you sure you think you know?
Can there be life with none,
pervasive expectations?
But if you’re happy it’s not always from
satisfying expectations.
And like ghosts they wait
living in my shadows,
they're definitely all me.
No I can't see them,
I can only meet them
when I wake to the feel.
Like killing your lover.
and feeding all the illusions instead.
And just ignoring the others
because i don’t want that piece to be dead.
But I know cold is the breathing
of the ghost with the golden blood veins.
A creeping numbness is killing
like a frost on a December day.
Cool my feet but I wont run,
cause I can’t cheat expectation.
Can there be life with none,
pervasive expectations?
Would it be any fun
love without expectations?
They scarred my thoughts to cover lies,
grey as the color of my eyes.
And like ghosts who haunt,
come out of the shadows,
they are definitely all me.
I invite them in
and prepare some coffee
and I ask them from where they come.
Now here they appear
and now here they are absent,
my definite family.
Spin around my head
and abduct my mind, but
they're definitely all me.

JUST OK (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Aug 2015)
Tear another
emergency brake
then you make up
just a story about your escape.
And you taste the bitterness
of your own mono tone
when you realize
that you're all alone.
And you answer, ‘Just ok’,
and there’s nothing more to say,
I feel the same,
pretty mundane.
What are we asking everyday
when we’re never what we say?
Are you ok?
Are you really okay?
Wear another
blank look upon your face
as you stare out
to the wake of your only mistake.
Before you tell all
your secrets now its ok,
would you just break up
the routine of your everyday?
And you answer, ‘Just ok’,
and there’s nothing more to say,
I feel the same,
pretty mundane.
What are we asking everyday
when we’re never what we say?
Are you ok?
Are you really okay?

THE END (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, May 2016)
I met an old man who never loved.
I met a young boy who hunted doves.
A cat at the window, then on the floor.
We are all widows locking the door.
Because in the end everyone’s wrong,
love doesn’t stay put, never for long,
here for one day, the next day it’s gone.
And its painful making two lives one.
Boats in the darkness painted white
approach from a distance and pass in the night.
Back into the dark
waiting for the spark,
we look for the light
in the white noise of the night.
We couldn't have known
time is loving alone.
All the stories were mine.
The end is the try.
So then the morning soon came along,
a note on the pillow, a half finished song.
But even before that something went wrong,
I started to miss it before it was gone.
Because in the end everyone’s wrong,
love doesn’t stay put, never for long,
here for one day, the next day it’s gone.
And its painful making two lives one.
Back into the dark
waiting for the spark,
we look for the light
in the white noise of the night.
We couldn't have known
time is loving alone.
All the stories were mine.
The end is the try

WOODPECKER’S LOVE AFFAIR (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Apr 2015)
Never thought I could have trouble with addiction,
but I do when information becomes fiction.
Searching for stories but I never seem to find mine,
lying to myself again that I'm not wasting my time.
I’ve seen the whole world, from the confines of my home,
writing letters, being social all alone.
Great conversations aren't the things I should regret though,
but what if it completely disconnects you.
I don't remember our words spoken anymore,
yet somehow it seems like I'm never bored.
I miss the feel and touch of people that are real, yeah.
Are we in control, are we controlled, or what's the deal here?
I'm losing the sense, don't get the feeling anymore.
Finer senses, we forgot just what they're here for.
‘Artificial flavor tastes better than nothing’, I thought.
Machines breathing is the only sound I caught.
I’m losing my senses can't love anymore.
These digital fences keep me from you.
Letters are written, time is all gone,
calling forbidden, I'm on the run.
Our feelings are hidden, nothing gets done.
I hear but can't listen, keep knocking along.

SOMETHING SAYS (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Sept 2011)
The beginning says:
"Don't forget about me".
The end only says:
"We'll never meet, yeah".
Happiness says:
"Can you gimme a ride?"
But anxiety knows,
there's more room inside, yeah.
The wind would love,
to stay here with you.
The Fog, he tries,
to think it through, yeah.
The disguise moans:
"I feel so used".
Promodel says:
"I wanna be yours," yeah.
I wanna be yours.
Heart lets it slip:
"I'm not a boss".
The nowhere admits:
"I wanna be loved".
Truth whispering:
"Don't conceal me".
Love secretly writes:
"Come and find me".
Yeah Come and find me.
"Where did we go wrong?"
Said the memory.
The flower appeals:
"Please kidnap me," yeah.
"Gimme your hand."
Is what said the fear.
Children they dine
with wild tigers here.
The TV, it hissed:
"It's just us two."
Its shadow repeats:
"Can't follow you," yeah.
I Can't follow you.
Temptation says:
"I am the boss."
The hiding place says:
"I feel so lost," yeah.
And so the cringe
feels so afraid.
Gravity warns:
„There’s no need to hate," yeah.

I DON’T THINK ABOUT YOU (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Dez 2011)
No I don't think about you.
The tape that I made you,
don't ever remind me of you.
I don't think about you.
When I notice your toothbrush
by the sink with a coat of dust…
No, I don't think about you.
Your smell on the pillow
helps me to let go
and not think about you.
The words that we made new
I remember I knew
still I don't think about you
When I find your hair,
next to your jacket on my white desk chair...
No, I don't think about you.

TIME AGAIN (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Aug 2013)
I came at ten,
you left at eight.
Time time again,
I came too late
Realize that things just weren't working,
Pretending that we were both blind.
A billboarded couple blank frozen.
Lunch on the terrace, like the dead we dine.
When I wanna sleep you’re just waking.
I set a fire you complain 'bout the cold.
Just like our sunny vacations,
stunning pictures they'll stay on the roll
Through love to hate,
goes round again.
Wake up too late,
no sense or plan.
Shiftless and weak,
comfortably numb.
Words wouldn’t speak,
not leave my tounge.
Finger rests over the button,
blank looks whiter than white.
And you said it all, you said nothing.
The end comes without a fight.
We’re close at the start without thinking,
caught up after one Berlin night.
Then red flags and warning lights blinking.
To cut the ties, time was just never right
I came at ten,
you left at eight.
Time time again,
I came too late.
You left at eight
and I came at ten,
You didn’t wait,
time and time again
Obviously We weren't great but you are.
You’re brilliant though. You thought you’re not but you are.
We weren't enough, but you should know you are
It wasn't right, It’s never but you are
You are. Yes, you are.
I came at ten,
you left at eight.
Time time again,
I came too late.
You left at eight
and I came at ten,
You didn’t wait,
time and time again

INK (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Dez 2011)
Today
you say softly,
that you'd die for me.
In your eyes I see,
that you lie.
Tonight, insight we both know,
what it means to die alone.
So I lay this down for you to hear,
whenever you want me, and I can't be there.
I can live on through this sound
Find my ghost in the reverb and use it.
Just to help you remember,
to never forget,
the sweet and the bitter
it's not over yet.
You can always remember,
you can always forget,
the tough and the brittle,
No it’s not over yet
Remember the day
you went to sleep
you said to me,
that life's a tease,
then you die.
Tonight insight we both know,
what it means to be left alone.
I'm not afraid of it anyway.
I'm afraid of the riddle beyond the days.
Angels don't wait after this.
Other fears are nothing, when compared.
You can always remember,
you can always forget,
the tough and the brittle,
No it’s not over yet
Just to help you remember,
to never forget,
the sweet and the bitter
it's not over yet.
Here I am,
so please don't wait
for me, 'cause I'm a little late,
but I'm here.
When the time fades away
we'll have lived today
the sweet and the bitter,
like in the taste
of your words today.
Open the blinds,
something is hidden
in the memories
and the ink
so go write down
the taste and specify
the smell of the sound.
You can always remember,
you can always forget,
the tough and the brittle,
No it’s not over yet
Just to help you remember,
to never forget,
the sweet and the bitter
it's not over yet.
And you have it now.

BLACK HOLE NIGHTS (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Jul 2012)
Gimme my time back.
Gimme time back.
They lied to me
with flashing lights
skin and tights and
black hole nights...
That grown men cry,
that angels die,
that rivers run dry,
that friends lie.
Step outside
back from wasted days
and nights awake
and years half-baked.
From times I listen,
unthinking...
Not even waiting for
something interesting.
They lied to me
with flashing lights
skin and tights,
black hole nights.
Gimme my time back.
Gimme my time back.
Gimme time back.
Gimme my time back.
Nothing else there...
Gimme my mind back.
Now all I need
is a line back.
Gimme my time back.
Gimme time back.
Nothing else there...
Gimme time back.
Gimme my time back.
Nothing else there...
Gimme time back.

THE DEVIL IN ME (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Sept 2011)
I've met the devil, seen him around
Because we share, this same town.
We both frequent this barber shop,
But his cut is better than one I got.
We drive the same automobile
Even my bad ideas he tries to steal
Fridays he plays at a local bar
Stairway to heaven on guitar.
I couldn't hide from the truth
Of that insight I'd come to believe
There lives a devil in me.
I've met the devil in me
I've met the devil in me
That's all I see
A devil in me.
I've met the devil in me
I've met the devil in me
Always waiting for me
A devil in me.
I've met the devil, toe to toe
He Waits for me deep inside my shadow.
My great escape back to the mirror, but
Who is the one that will appear?
When I approach him, he turns away
When I am talking he has always
got Something got something so profound to say
But I can't confront my enemy.
I couldn't hide from the truth
Of that insight I'd come to believe
There lives a devil in me.
I've met the devil in me
I've met the devil in me
That's all I see
A devil in me.
I've met the devil in me
I've met the devil in me
Always waiting for me
A devil in me.
He's cold like me
Feels alone
And he crawls like me
I'm starting to see...
He gets what he wants
But not what he needs.
He gets what he wants
But not what he needs.
He gets what he wants
But not what he needs.
He gets what he wants
But not what he needs.
I shouldn't die
Oh Lord, I shouldn't cry
The devil has
Somehow come to frame me...
The devil is actually me.

KEEP CONTROL (Jan Blomqvist & Ryan Mathiesen, Nov 2013)
We all walk in lines
Taking pills to feel fine
We sit back and sip our wine
philosophize about the time.
We waist cash on pretty things.
How long lives the king?
So just fill the boat until it sinks
and behold the captain will.
Keep control
We all are superstars
Long commutes and fancy cars
Our shallow words in hollow bars
turn to making wars.
For what purpose has the crown,
The castles crumbled to the ground
when your paper plane crashes down
and behold the captain will.
Keep control
We can't take control
All we have is fake control
Basically no contol
So fuck control.
Fuck control.

DESERT DAYS (Ryan Mathiesen and Jan Blomqvist, JAN 2011)
Was the time wasted
heated and cold,
cutting with tongues and,
tasting the blood?
With your need to be right
and my need to fight,
our Justice is armless
and orphaned at night.
A new symbol alright
absence of right.
A new symbol alright
a new simple crime.
Now we've faced it,
the view from the floor.
Can we erase it?
Can we let go?
And climb out the basement
once and for all,
tear down this ancient
emotional wall?
Put the symbol away,
sleep in the light.
A new symbol, new day,
blindfolded eyes.
You're right but in the wrong place.
I am wrong but at the right case.
With your need to be right
and my need to fight,
how can we trust this
desert inside?
A new symbol alright,
absence of right.
A new symbol alright,
a new simple crime.
With your need to be right
and my need to fight,
how can we trust this
desert inside?
A new symbol alright,
absence of right.
A new symbol alright,
a new simple crime.
You’re right but in the wrong place.
I am wrong but in the right case.
We walk in separate ways,
together in desert days.

AWAKE (Ryan Mathiesen and Jan Blomqvist, Feb 2012)
I'm awake when the metro stops.
Awake through the baker shops.
Then outside I met the fox,
stumbling around the grey housing blocks.
I asked him if he'd seen my love.
He looked to the seagull above.
No one around, there's just no one around
to talk with.
I'm awake, fight'n the early bird.
He was laughing 'bout my sleeping shirt.
Far off I hear policemen sing,
but I'm still waiting for my clock to ring.
I can't see the romance no more,
each night the same quiet floor.
No one around, there's just no one around
to talk with.
I'm awake with visions in my ear.
I don't know why they wont disappear.
I pressed it up against my crumbling wall,
but I can't find a sound in there at all.
The question that wont let me sleep,
not blatant nor overly deep.
No one around, there's just no one around
to talk with.
I'm awake, and so is the street.
So what's the question that wont let me sleep?
Chaotic thoughts, maybe someone knocks.
I'm paranoid that it could be the fox.
Sun in the cold empty hall
and the thump of the lonely clubs' call.
No one around, there's just no one around
to talk with.
I'm awake, and read the news again
to take my mind off the truth again.
Well scientists found The Cure again,
so I should take another listen then.
The question that won't let me sleep,
not blatant nor overly deep
No one around, there's just no one around
to talk with.

SLEEPWALKER (Ryan Mathiesen and Jan Blomqvist, Dec 2013)
if theres just one thing we are not
seems like it's clear.
if there’s just one thing we've lost
it is meaning.
if there’s just one thing we forgot
it’s listening.
there’s only one thing that we have got
and it’s empty.
there’s only one thing we forgot
it is to stop.
and there’s only one thing that we have lost
it’s in control.
there’s only one thing we are not
oh it’s easy.
there’s only one thing that we got
and it’s fragile.
we're just sleepwalking more than we're not.
we're just sleepwalking out for a walk.
we're just sleepwalking more than we're not
feels like sleepwalking out for a walk

CLEOPATRA (Ryan Mathiesen, Nov 2011)
Cleopatra cant get her eyes off the throne
She got her wisdom teeth
strung around her neck.
She knows how to breathe
when behind the decks.
She got snakes on her back,
indifferent to facts.
You gotta work a little harder to
make her lips crack.
Cleopatra cant get her eyes off the throne
Cleopatra cant get her eyes off the throne
Her attention is foreign,
strolling about,
or willfully aimed
at the one with clout.
Her attention is fleeting,
take what you get.
She's too smart for cheating
and she never makes bets.
Cleopatra cant get her eyes off the throne
Cleopatra cant get her eyes off the throne
She only waits
on the first snow to fall.
Only books she reads
are written by Roald Dahl.
Prefers cats to men,
tarot to zen.
She'll tell you again
that she's not listenin'.
Cleopatra cant get her eyes off the throne
Cleopatra cant get her eyes off the throne
(Extra Lines:
Her eyes find keys
to rooms with (full) service.
She doesn’t tease,
She loves to be nervous
She's hungry for something,
She's feeding a fire.
happy with nothing,
bottomless desire.
Cleopatra cant get her eyes off the throne
Cleopatra cant get her eyes off the throne
Living her (own) myth
the passion is such
(that) she could loose the gift
of magnetic touch.
If you want it too bad
you can scare it away.
You don't want it enough,
it wont come your way (it will never stay)
Cleopatra cant get her eyes off the throne
Cleopatra cant get her eyes off the throne)