Just take a pebble and cast it to the sea,
Then watch the ripples that unfold into me,
My face spill so gently into your eyes,
Disturbing the waters of our lives.
Shread of our memories are lying on your grass;
Wounded words of laughter are graveyards of the past.
Photographs are grey and torn, scattered in your fields
Letters of your mem'ries are not real.
Sadness on your shoulders like a wornout overcoat
In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope.
The daybreak is your midnight; the colours have all died.
Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives,
lives, lives...
Of our lives.
Do you want to be an angel,
Do you wanna be an angel
Do you wanna be a star
Do you wanna play some magic
On my guitar
Do you wanna be a poet
Do you wanna be my string
You could be anything
Do you wanna be the lover of another undercover
You could even be the
Man on the moon
Do you wanna be the player
Do you wanna be the string
Let me tell you something
It just don't mean a thing
You see it really doesn't matter
When you're buried in disguise
By the dark glass on your eyes
Though your flesh has crystallised
Still...you turn me on
Do you wanna be the pillow
Where I lay my head
Do you wanna be the feathers
Lying on my bed
Do you wanna be the cover
Of a magazine
Create a scene
Every day a little sadder
A little madder
Someone get me a ladder
Do you wanna be the singer
Do you wanna be the song
Let me tell you something
You just couldn't be more wrong
You see I really have to tell you
That it all gets so intense
From my experience
It just doesn't seem to make sense
Still...you turn me on
He had white horses
And ladies by the score
All dressed in satin
And waiting by the door
Oooh, what a lucky man he was
White lace and feathers
They made up his bed
A gold covered mattress
On which he was laid
He went to fight wars
For his country and his king
Of his honor and his glory
The people would sing
A bullet had found him
His blood ran as he cried
No money could save him
So he laid down and he died
Then watch the ripples that unfold into me,
My face spill so gently into your eyes,
Disturbing the waters of our lives.
Shread of our memories are lying on your grass;
Wounded words of laughter are graveyards of the past.
Photographs are grey and torn, scattered in your fields
Letters of your mem'ries are not real.
Sadness on your shoulders like a wornout overcoat
In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope.
The daybreak is your midnight; the colours have all died.
Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives,
lives, lives...
Of our lives.
Do you want to be an angel,
Do you wanna be an angel
Do you wanna be a star
Do you wanna play some magic
On my guitar
Do you wanna be a poet
Do you wanna be my string
You could be anything
Do you wanna be the lover of another undercover
You could even be the
Man on the moon
Do you wanna be the player
Do you wanna be the string
Let me tell you something
It just don't mean a thing
You see it really doesn't matter
When you're buried in disguise
By the dark glass on your eyes
Though your flesh has crystallised
Still...you turn me on
Do you wanna be the pillow
Where I lay my head
Do you wanna be the feathers
Lying on my bed
Do you wanna be the cover
Of a magazine
Create a scene
Every day a little sadder
A little madder
Someone get me a ladder
Do you wanna be the singer
Do you wanna be the song
Let me tell you something
You just couldn't be more wrong
You see I really have to tell you
That it all gets so intense
From my experience
It just doesn't seem to make sense
Still...you turn me on
He had white horses
And ladies by the score
All dressed in satin
And waiting by the door
Oooh, what a lucky man he was
White lace and feathers
They made up his bed
A gold covered mattress
On which he was laid
He went to fight wars
For his country and his king
Of his honor and his glory
The people would sing
A bullet had found him
His blood ran as he cried
No money could save him
So he laid down and he died