Twee meisjes op het strand, ze kijken naar de wolken,
En in de hoge bomen, hangen ze hun verre dromen
drie duiven op het dak, ze lopen op de reling,
kijkend naar die tweeling, daar binnen in het huis
twee varkens voor de buis
de luiaards zitten thuis
Saturday Night Fever.
We should have been dancing.
We were in the mood for love.
We were big but not Lebowski.
We watched, we danced, we drank, we looked, we tried. We dreamed. We fantasized. Welcome to the fun!
We counted numbers. We wrote numbers down. We were numbers.
To be watched, to be noted, to be remembered. Are we the chosen ones?
But then there was a fear. A Time was near when:
Nothing that belonged to it exists any more.
He remembers those vanished years.
As though looking through a dusty window pane,
the past is something he could see, but not touch.
Life is not a dance of death.
And so we were young and I hope we'll stay forever young, the past is alive.
We burn. We stand. We live. Our Hearts are on Fire.