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