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
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
