It's Not The Radio

All the trees are whistling tonight
All the satellites misunderstand you
It's not the radio that's keeping you awake
The empty universe is making your lips shake

I can hear your whistle on the wind
And the silent conversation of the motor car within
This is not the life you were expecting
Nor is it a moment for reflection

You can barely look at me from a million miles
So I keep the photographs for a weekday smile
I can see the best of you in an occasional dream
Dance, girl, dance away from me

Dance away, dance away from here
Through the door, through the door, my dear
It's getting cold, getting cold down here

This is not a temporary place
All the conversations in your head are out of phase
There is no telephone that's keeping you awake
There is no carnival reflecting on the lake

This is not a home for invitations
Not a destination on the earth can save you now
There is no celebration keeping you awake
Just a lonely ladder to the star which you can take

Was a long, long time ago that you shook me cold
You can paint me evergreen like the midday snow
It was a long, long time ago that you wrapped me in gold
Oh baby, I'm sold

Dance away, dance away from here
Through the door, through the door, my dear
It's getting cold, getting cold down here

Star gazing on a space-bound flight
Sing with me through the space age night
Daydreamer with those sweet, sweet eyes
Dream with me in the purple skies

You can barely look at me from a million miles
So I keep the photographs for a weekday smile
I can see the best of you in an occasional dream
Dance girl, dance away from me