Imagine if you could see the inside of his voice
Feeling every last vibration in your fingers
Your spine tingles in awe of choice
The gaping maw is a dead ringer
(so you) Feel[ing] every last vibration in [y]our fingers
Oh, Singer! Singer! Make sure my tale is not over
The gaping maw is a dead ringer
That today would not be a bad day to be a lover.
Oh, Singer? Singer! Make sure my tale is not over
There is life yet in these young eyes
Today should not be a bad day to be a lover
Don’t ruin it with pearl lies,
There is life yet in these young eyes
Youth in shining coats of gold and red
Do not ruin it with pearl lies
What you haven’t made is a bed.
Youth in shining coats of gold and red
Marching down the way; glowing in the sky
What you haven’t made is a bed
Perhaps one of those young men?
Marching down the way; glowing in the sky
Your spine tingles in awe of choice
Perhaps one of these young men-
(Just) Imagine if you could see the inside of his voice.




















