We know our dreams aren't real,
So when will we feel the moonlight dry our tears?
The common fate of all things rare.
An angel writing in a book of gold,
I will radiate the happiness you bring to my soul,
And my kisses shall teach thy lips,
My forehead still red from the kiss of the Queen.
But 'twas no make believe with you today,
Love you ten years before the flood,
Because I dance like I've got diamonds.
Why wish for the moon when the stars are right here,
The night of the psychological?
