Softly the crystals falling on 17th Street do their dance and die and are gone
Millions of crystal balls roll around your feet and nothing gets done

An hour goes by
She doesn't

If you don't cry
it isn't love
If you don't cry
then you just don't feel it deep enough

Dying all day in thousands of little ways
Dancing alone and drinking a lot
Closing the clubs and haunting the cabarets looking for what

Another five years off your life

A year goes by
She doesn't