Слова:
Theatre Of Tragedy Assembly

Don't you wanna end up with this mister? Ah He is just being nice with his kisses and he Thinks you're not one of the smart ones say it sexy Doesn't seem

Moving sideways through the sold photo Slow figures flashing on tiptoe Crashing cars on a blue tableau Goes to show it wasn't everywhere No one steering

No risk, no fun I'm here, you're gone I'm cool, you're hot I love you not Don't say a word Unless you're heard I know, I hate To see you rude I think

She fills the rich kitsch niche where she sits Making chit-chat, this and that, from the bits Consumed, perfumed, detracts the room despite Glowing, knowing

Turn, baby, turn, I'm the music, oh Dance with me, sway (Are you ready for me?) Take a chance on me Turn, baby, turn, I'm in tune now Sing to me, say

Man standing next to man, he's alone I see only faces, I don't know I see faces staring, other faces staring Don't talk, don't tell, don't talk, don'

: Don't you wanna end up with this mister? He is just being nice with his kisses and he Thinks you're not one of the smart ones Say it darling Doesn'

: He tries to see, although he can't He tries, but doesn't understand He calls on a different phone-line No one that he knows An out of focus acquaintance

: He says to her, "There's a woman in the upstairs window" She turns and looks The blurred image of the echo fades away As the silhouette set She's smoking