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    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

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