Young lovers, young lovers, young lovers. I see them everywhere I go. Holding hands in the park. As the sky grows dark. Young lovers don't want to go home.
Some people like watching a lamb in a lion? s den. They want me to bow down my head and give in to the end. They keep on singing the same old song. They got the tune right but the words are all wrong.
When you came into the room. You didn? t walk in through the door. You didn? t steal through the window. And neither did you rise up through the floor.