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 stars that you can take

Was a long, long time ago that you shook me cold

You can paint me evergreen like the midday snow

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

Stargazing 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