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 the 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 call it and wait   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 thrill   One must place one's soul between   The hammer and the anvil