Children of the Fire

Oh how often I long for an end to it all
This chasing after pleasure is starting to pall
Drifting with the others from bar to bar
Burning up the highway in a fast sports car
We wanted our lives to be easy and flowing
But what's the meaning, where are we going
Just getting older, our hearts getting colder
Born along by boredom and desire
We are the children of the fire

We are the children of the fire
We are the babes of the mire
Covering up all our inner pain
Broken into waring pieces
Mistaking food for faeces
Not knowing where to turn or how to love again

When you left that was the finish of me
My pride was hurt, I had to make up a fantasy
Getting even with life is a loser's game
The dice is loaded with another's name
It should be fun, you pretend to love yourself
But really your like a broken jug left on a shelf
Just getting older, your heart getting colder
Born along by boredom and desire
We are the children of the fire

We are the children of the fire... etc

by Peter Brown  © Chinta Music, 1984