What is developed, enveloped in the dark
And is stopped at the very start?
What does light create, like the sight of a star
That eminates from afar?
A deb at a dance in an old portrait
Now for romance, it's a little late
But there in her swoon it's a sliver too soon
To shoot the silvery moon
chorus- Here's the record, just as another
The past is over, over and over
Here's the record, the same as any other
Until it's over, over and over
It's a rain-stricken Sunday, all the shutters are closed
I'm striking a nautral pose
A compsite formed of opposites shows
Undeveloped, overexposed
Adelina Patti to deathlessness destined
But one so unrefined
Her image is fixed, breathlessly declined
The flash is upon you
The light it astounds you
Now darkness surrounds you, it's the same in sound
Unsafe, unsound
Chorus
The past is over, hold your lover
Your past is over
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