As I run more faster than you
Draw out the line
That's what I'll do
I'm the swiftest mortal alive
I don't have to scheme or connive
I hear you throw that javelin well
well, you can throw it halfway to hell
I ain't got emotion to sell
I'm under father's spell
My mind says," Look to myself-
and keep that heart safely stored on a shelf"
and with my mind I'll run 'till I win
If you can't beat me
I'll call that a sin
I hear you throw that javelin well
But you can throw it halfway to hell
I ain't got emotion to sell
I'm under father's spell
Hey, what's the deal?
I feel so unsure
My mind was fast
but not anymore
You used your mind in a way I can't see
How did a butterfly catch and sting me?
Man, you threw that javelin well
and then you threw me halfway to hell
But I ain't got emotion to sell
I'm under father's spell
No, I ain't got emotion to sell
I'm under Daddy's spell
Your crazy mind has cast this on me
We tasted fruit where we should not be
Never more will we taste each other
But we can be like sister and brother
They call me Atalanta
Are you Melanion?
They call me Atalanta
an' you Melanion
They call me Atalanta
Words/music/B.Pearce
Recorded live on Marc/Woolfman
Radio Central - Antwerp, 1999
