I can see the line of your brassiere. I can contemplate it from here. There's no need for breathlessness When we're so far apart. I see us writhing in a phone booth Or laid back in the dewy grass of our youth And wishing on the Neverstar And happy days of electrical smiles And loving evenings falling down in piles And not imagining a restlessness That could keep us apart. If I could sleep there's a chance I could dream And reconjure all of these vivid scenes. O insomniacs of the world, good night. No more wishing on the Neverstar.
