| Song | Impulse of Man |
| Artist | And Also the Trees |
| Album | And Also the Trees |
| 作曲 : Burrows, Havas, Jones | |
| True or false, the life of man | |
| Beneath her dress, so soft so thin | |
| Not wicked thoughts, explains he shakes | |
| For God's sake hold the key | |
| Locks in this agony | |
| Your armes are positioned, but they are not nailed | |
| You look for the pacifist, but he went | |
| He's lost in the maze | |
| These winds are cold and its walls will press his face | |
| True or false, impulse of man | |
| Hits his girl, she swirls across the floor | |
| And as she falls, bites out his tongue | |
| Black strips on the birch | |
| Man's eyes bulge ans burst | |
| He shouts "pacifist help!" but he cannot hear | |
| He's lost in the maze | |
| The rock cuts his back | |
| And the wind will press his face.... press his face... | |
| True or false, impulsive man | |
| Erase the face from smile to scream | |
| Must keep his hands inside his head | |
| Tear lines in her clothes | |
| Bruised hands hold the rose | |
| So now you must wait for the honey to come to your throat | |
| Your arms are splinters | |
| But they will scrape the disease from his face | |
| Press his face.... press his face... |
| zuò qǔ : Burrows, Havas, Jones | |
| True or false, the life of man | |
| Beneath her dress, so soft so thin | |
| Not wicked thoughts, explains he shakes | |
| For God' s sake hold the key | |
| Locks in this agony | |
| Your armes are positioned, but they are not nailed | |
| You look for the pacifist, but he went | |
| He' s lost in the maze | |
| These winds are cold and its walls will press his face | |
| True or false, impulse of man | |
| Hits his girl, she swirls across the floor | |
| And as she falls, bites out his tongue | |
| Black strips on the birch | |
| Man' s eyes bulge ans burst | |
| He shouts " pacifist help!" but he cannot hear | |
| He' s lost in the maze | |
| The rock cuts his back | |
| And the wind will press his face.... press his face... | |
| True or false, impulsive man | |
| Erase the face from smile to scream | |
| Must keep his hands inside his head | |
| Tear lines in her clothes | |
| Bruised hands hold the rose | |
| So now you must wait for the honey to come to your throat | |
| Your arms are splinters | |
| But they will scrape the disease from his face | |
| Press his face.... press his face... |