What's there to talk about
if not romances
going the way of the snow
What of the lovers
after the dances
where are they going to go
Maybe the truth is
best left unspoken
so close to one nine eight four
But for the lovers
after the dances
whisper the key to my door
Dreams may be melted
but dreamers survive and
we'll dream again as before
No use pretending
we're still depending
on things you don't see much anymore
Dumb little things
silly signs of attention
visions we're not s'posed to see
That's what we want
the underground lovers
everyone I know and me
Why are we so ashamed
of giving and taking
where are we scared it might lead
What's wrong with natural
human exchanges
and who said we're not s'posed to need?
Maybe the truth is
best left unspoken
so close to one nine eight four
But for the lovers
after the dances
whisper the key to my door
