The act of love . . . is a confession. Selfishness screams aloud, vanity shows off, or else true generosity reveals itself.

Albert Camus

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Those eyes burn holes
Into the starry night
And when her sleepy eyes
Are open wide
You can fairly dance beneath her light
And I'd love to get to know the natives
But I'm only flesh and blood
She'll share your joys
But not your sorrows
Mistress of the coming flood.
Cool upon the silent sea
Isn't she the moon queen
Whispering, In my dreams
You must come back to me
And the tides rise and a distant sigh
Falls on deaf ears
Her vision makes you every inch a king
King for a million years
And she loves you when you're leavin'
And she'll leave you if you stay
She says
"Don't tell me that you love me
You'll hate me for hearing it
When I drift away."
I can hear you softly cry
Your storms and lullabies
I'll whisper in your dreams
Till you come back to me.
Come back
But she will never stay
Come back
And you must never wait,
Never wait. Never wait. Never wait.