Blue Black
Ball of fire the trail of flame
Call to glory the lure of fame
The great dividing line, elusive truth
The thrill of victory as we raise the roof
Build to climax, addicted to the thrill
The plan, the execution, riding down the hill
Coasting on the rhythm, dreaming all the way
This game is an illusion, but everybody wants to play
Keep your eyes on the road, your feet on the track
The siren behind calls out the attack
Hold true to your course - the blue and the black
Roll through the tack and don't look back
You run from the past, run from your name
Run from familiar, run like it's a game
Never settle, don't show your hand
Never stop dealing, oh is that your plan?
You pose as a saint, pose as a fool
Pose like you're tactless like you don't pose at all
Leave only questions - a shadow of a shape
With only an illusion of what you could have made
Keep your eyes on the road, your feet on the track
The siren behind calls out the attack
Hold true to your course - the blue and the black
Roll through the tack and don't look back
If I stop then I will fall
From the tightrope up so tall
And though we balance on the line
Every day is borrowed time
If I stop then I will fall
From the tightrope up so tall
And though we balance on the line
Every day is borrowed time
If I stop then I will fall
From the tightrope up so tall
And though we balance on the line
Every day is borrowed time
If I stop then I will fall
From the tightrope up so tall
And though we balance on the line
Every day is borrowed time
Writer/s: THEO BARD