We still sit at separate tables
and we sleep at different times
and the warm wind in the palm trees
hasnīt helped to change our minds
it was the lure of the tropics
that i thought might heal the scars
of a love burned out by silence
in a marriage minus heart
and i call the kids on the telephone
say thereīs something wrong out here
itīs july but itīs cold as christmas
in the middle of the year
the temperatureīs up to ninety-five
but thereīs a winter look
in your mothers eyes
and to melt the tears
thereīs a heatwave here
so how come itīs as cold as christmas
in the middle of the year
i dreamed of love
in a better climate
and for what itīs really worth
i put faith in the star we followed
to this caribbean surf
but thereīs an icy fringe
on everything
and i cannot find the lines
whereīs the beauty
in the beast we made
why the frost in the summertime
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