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