Pale pubescent beasts roam through the streets
and coffee-shops
Their prey gather in herds
with stiff knee-length skirts
and white ankle-socks
But while they search for a mate my type
hibernates
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
