Jacques Brel, Jouannest, Eric Blau, Mort Shuman
They hold each others hands
They walk without a sound
Down forgotten streets
Their shadows kiss the ground
Their footsteps
sing a song
Tat's ended before it's begun
They walk without a sound
The desperate ones
Just like the tiptoe moth
That dance before the flame
They burn their hearts so much
That death is just a name
And if love calls again
So foolishly they run, they run, they run
They run, they run, they run, they run
They run without a sound
The desperate ones
I know the road tey're on
I've walked their crooked mile
A hundred times or more
I drank their cup of bile
They watch their dreams go down
Be hind the settin sun
Yeh, yeh, yeh, they walk without a sound
The desperate ones
Le he who threw the stone at them
Stand up and take a bow
He knows the verb ";to love";
Beu he'll never, never, never know how
On the bridge of nevermore
They disappear one by one
Disappear without a sound
The desperate ones