When the heat rises up to the point of maximum temperature

To give birth to the flame

The fountain of passion showers high



New ways emerge in the endless search

For the expression supreme

And true value of art



What does it take to feel it and make it real?

Maybe you must deal with insanity or steal...



When we are at the forge 

Of creation, but who knows

What lights up the torch 

Illuminating the process for all those

Those who are at the forge?



When the steam burns your skin and the mood is getting all so constrained

And the flame's dying down

The fountain of passion dried up suddenly



No way out, there's nothing you can do about 

It, but you call it and wait 

For as long as you find another way



What does it take to feel it and make it real?

Maybe you must deal with insanity or steal...



When we are at the forge 

Of creation, but who knows

What lights up the torch 

Illuminating the process for all those

Those who are at the forge?



When we are at the forge 

Of creation, but who knows

What lights up the torch 

Illuminating the process...



When we are at the forge 

Of creation, but who knows

What lights up the torch 

Illuminating the process for all those

Those who are at the forge?



To create or come up with something 

That is to a thrill

One must place, one's soul between

The hammer and the anvil...