Songs of Love

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