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He went looking for Europe, took love in his hand |
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With eyes of sunlight, like burning sand |
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Went to the west, rode to the east |
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Heard of life and honour, looked into the eyes of the beast |
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Stood in a city, in the gold house of whores |
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Said: "I'm looking for Europe", then you're looking for war |
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Sat on the throne of Arthur, held Boudica's sword |
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Kissed the flags of the great, beneath the towers so tall |
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Climbed up the hillside, where the eagle still flies |
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Said: "I'm looking for Europe", well be ready to cry |
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He walked to the forest, to the lair of the wolf |
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Said: "I'm looking for Europe, I'll tell you truth." |
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Some find it in a flag, some in the beat of a drum |
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Some with a book, and some with a gun |
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Some in a kiss, and some on the march |
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But if you're looking for Europe, best look in your heart |
