"MAD MACHINE!"
In a savannah enraged by sandstorms,
"MAD MACHINE!"
I chase down my prey on a dashing motorcycle.
"MAD MACHINE!"
It isn't logical, this fire burning in my breast.
"MAD MACHINE!"
If I'm with you, we may share the same dream.
I don't want to cool
my raging passion
until my sadness
is torn to shreds.
"Don't stop your love, your love..."
"Tell me what do you want,
tell me how do you feel."
You and I are like wounded beasts,
with sparks in starving eyes.
When, for an instant, I look back, afraid,
my heartbeat does a painful dance.
"Tell me what do you want,
tell me how do you feel."
"Mad Machine..."
"MAD MACHINE!"
I don't know about tomorrow and all.
"MAD MACHINE!"
All I want is someone with
whom I can knock around.
Everything is melting away;
it's such a sad joke
that cool stares are more
tender than sympathy.
"Feeling so bad, so bad"
"Tell me what do you want,
tell me how do you feel."
Time flies, and pursues us,
like a wounded beast
seeking release from its pain.
My awakening wild nature has a hold on me,
and the more masks I remove,
the more woman I become.
"Tell me what do you want,
tell me how do you feel."