Is a cold fire I'll be around It was long after midnight When we got to unconditional love She said sure, my heart is boundless But don't push my limits too far I said if love was so transcendent I don't understand these boundaries

'Round midnight, midnight It begins to tell I do pretty well, till after sundown Suppertime I'm feelin' sad But it really gets bad 'Round midnight Memories always start 'round midnight Haven't got the heart to stand those memories When my heart is still

Silent night for the rest of my life Whisper, whisper don't make a sound Your bed is made it's in the ground Hold your breath and count to four Pinky swears don't work no more I was alive but now I'm singing Silent knight at the edge of your knife Won't

Oh my, oh my This side, this side, this side I've been up for a long time This side, this side This side, this side, this side, this side You never come around past midnight

By the midnight hour Lay it down, lay it down Lookin' 'round for a feelin' I love the rhythm and blues The place was rockin' and reelin' I thought I'd shake me loose The band was pumpin' Motown Lord how they could play The girls a-started singing

'Round midnight, midnight It begins to tell I do pretty well, till after sundown Suppertime I'm feelin' sad But it really gets bad 'Round midnight Memories always start 'round midnight Haven't got the heart to stand those memories When my heart is still

Yeah, I still miss her in a round about way But I still miss her in a round about way Around about the time that midnight rolls around 'Cause she's not around As far as all my friends can tell I took her leavin' well - that's kinda right 'Cause when I'm

Then we slide into the arms of someone else Yeah, we slide into the arms of someone else In disguise, we get a little better at controlling ourselves around midnight Nobody wants to, nobody wants to From the hot strobe lights and the spiked punch bliss

Walking around at midnight Looking for my marking stone I was born an honest way One foot go the right way I feel like I'm itching Well I am an old man I've got nothing more to say Take me to higher ground I wondered on back home

Oh, these three worn words Of tourists in Verona I just want to love you in my own language There was a wayward lad Stepped out one morning The ground to be his bed The sky his awning Neon, neon, neon A blue neon lamp in a midnight country field