Pale, pubescent beasts Roam through the streets And coffee shops Their prey gather in herds Of stiff knee-length skirts And white ankle socks But while they search for a mate My type hibernate In bedrooms above Composing their songs of love
Young, uniform minds In uniform lines And uniform ties Run round with trousers on fire And signs of desire They cannot disguise While I try to find words As light as the birds That circle above To put in my songs of love
Fate doesn't hang on a wrong or right choice Fortune depends on the tone of your voice So sing while you have time Let the sun shine down from above And fill you with songs of love Take me
Fate doesn't hang on a wrong or right choice Fortune depends on the tone of your voice So let's sing while we still can While the sun hangs high up above Wonderful songs of love Beautiful songs of love