Sometimes I wonder why I spend the lonely night dreaming of a song.
The melody haunts my reverie, And I am once again with you,
When our love was new, and each kiss an inspiration,
But that was long ago:
Now my consolation is in the star dust of a song.
Beside a garden wall, when stars are bright, you are in my arms,
The nightingale tells his fairy tale of paradise, where roses grew.
Tho' I dream in vain, in my heart it will remain:
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