We do not look for one another
Among relatives and friends.
We do not look for one another
Among noisy idle crowd.
Our attraction arises
Not as quickly passing fads,
But as shoots of flowers from seeds
Which were saved up with the ground.

Chorus:
But it"s not love.
And we adjust
The life to lust.
We had enough
Rebuffs to be
Afraid of love,
But lonely hearts
Again feel blood.
Perhaps it"s love?
But it"s not love.
Perhaps it"s love?
But it"s not love.
Perhaps it"s love?
But it"s not love.
But it"s not love.

How this heart contain with ease
In itself so much immense?
We so are overflow with feelings,
That the whole world seems is better.
But our errors and illusions
Cannot long support defense,
And somebody with petty gloating
Will repeat to us it later.

Chorus.