Turn and the world turns on, we're riding out with the dawn

All fixed up once again like a thousand times before

Beneath the blessed sun and the coming day

And the years don't change a thing - the rush remains the same

And I feel like a knife, these days are calling

I feel like a knife, sharpened like steel

Touched by the hand of the gods on these golden mornings

I feel like a knife for you



Stopped on the way down to the sea on the wide and lonely roads

The scent of summer nights and the warm fever of dreams

Beneath the falling stars, with the music loud

We're dancing spinning round in the wild cascading lights

And I feel like a knife . . .



These days to remember where it was that we came from

What was it that we wanted before all the changes

And the hardest part is choosing and watching all the doors closing

No turning back, no turning back



Well the years and the miles don't change a thing

The blood remains the same

It's a dream in a dream in a dream in a dream

With the darkness rushing by again

And I feel like a knife . . .