Songs Of Love — Ben Folds

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 sing while you still can While the sun hangs high up above

Wonderful songs of love

Beautiful songs of love Beautiful songs of love Beautiful songs of love