Pale, pubescent beasts
Roam through the streets
And coffee-shopsTheir prey gather in herds
Of stiff knee-length skirts
And white ankle-socksBut while they search for a mate
My type hibernate
In bedrooms aboveComposing their songs of loveYoung, uniform minds
In uniform lines
And uniform ties
Run round with trousers on fire
And signs of desire
They cannot disguiseWhile I try to find words
As light as the birds
That circle aboveTo put in my songs of loveFate doesn't hang on a wrong or right choice
Fortune depends on the tone of your voiceSo sing while you have time
Let the sun shine down from aboveAnd fill you with songs of loveFate doesn't hang on a wrong or right choice
Fortune depends on the tone of your voiceSo sing while you still can
While the sun hangs high up above
Wonderful songs of loveBeautiful songs of love
Beautiful songs of love
Beautiful songs of love
