On the museum island, At the end of the day, we had travelled for miles, We had come to escape All the space on the page That the newspapers gave Up to pictures and pictures of us. As we followed the coffin Of your famous father. Adjusting our skirts As we turned at the altar. And within every word That they'd written, was spelt out You'd taken your last ever bus. So skimming the surface Of all your new money, we skimmed the surface Of the air as we flew. we were out of the rain, we were thinking that maybe Berlin was the place to renew.
well you know what they say About terrible hate - It will breed something good When it's through. At the end of the day, By the Potsdamer Place And the Brandenburg Gate, It was you. You have hardened completely By the end of this story, You have learned to look clear Through the flash of a bulb, When you hear your own name From the back of a crowd, You just straighten your gaze, No you don't turn around. Oh but there was a time At the end of the day, We were both stood in line At the museum display, And you outshone the light Under which you were bathed, You could outshine the sky With the look that you gave, Oh so don't be afraid To look back and wave, Now that waving is all that you do. At the end of the day, By the Potsdamer Place, I am waving back at you.
So don't be afraid To look back and wave, Now that waving is all that you do. At the end of the day, By the Potsdamer Place, I am waving back at you.