Tale Of The Tongue Lyrics - Peter Murphy

The time is coming ripe 

We are running fast 

I see you coming closer 

Closer to the mask 

Come closer treat me softly 

Where can the dreamer be? 

How far we've come to know 

How much we've come to see 

And when I ask you softly 

Oh what the real men saw 

As I hit the roof again 

Oh what the dreamer saw 

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The street still screams 

The street still screams of garbage thoughts 

The stain of anxious guys 

Still we glimpse the faintest note 

Of some battered somnambulant men 

Of the desire to know the whys 

The street still screams 

Photos 

Fixed notions fashion them 

Their rules police the street 

No chance of Latin way 

Hold down to crude belief 

Lassoed in the charges' web 

Locked inside the nation's pride 

To boast the red of freedom's move 

They take the purple side 

I'm told from day to day 

Gaol slip from behind 

We are the guards of our mistakes 

Off and running blind 

So the dreamer speaks in time drunk wine 

Take the coming day 

If I seem to lag behind 

Whisper me the way 

The street still screams