Well it's a fragile tension, that's keeping us going.
It may not last forever, but of all wind is blowing.
There's something magical in the air.
Some things so tragic we have to care.
It's a strange obsession, it's drawing us nearer.
We don't understand it, it never get's clearer.
There's something mystical in our dreams.
They're so simplistic it kicks and screams.
Oh when we see too recon the art occult that nothing can keep us down.
It's a dizzying feeling that's keeping us flying.
Some glittering gauntlet, without even trying.
There's something magical in our hands.
Nothing logical to our plans.
: MARTIN LEE GORE