I'd rather dance with you than talk with you
So why don't we just move into the other room
There's space for us to shake, and hey, I like this tune

Even if I could hear what you said
I doubt my reply would be interesting for you to hear
Because I haven't read a single book all year
And the only film I saw, I didn't like it at all

I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you

The music's too loud and the noise from the crowd
Increases the chance of misinterpretation
So let your hips do the talking
I'll make you laugh by acting like the guy who sings
And you'll make me smile by really getting into the swing
Getting into the swing, getting into the swing
Getting into the swing, getting into the swing
Getting into the swing, getting into the swing
Getting into the swing, getting into the swing...

(Getting into the swing...)
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance with you
I'd rather dance with you

I'll lose some sales and my boss won't be happy,
But I can't stop listening to the sound
Of two soft voices
Blended in perfection
From the reels of this record that I've found.

Every day there's a boy in the mirror asking me...
What are you doing here?
Finding all my previous motives
Growing increasingly unclear.

I've traveled far and I've burned all the bridges
I believed as soon as I hit land
All the other options held before me,
Would wither in the light of my plan.

So I'll lose some sales and my boss won't be happy,
But there's only one thing on my mind
Searching boxes underneath the counter,
On a chance that on a tape I'd find...
A song for someone who needs somewhere to long for.

Homesick.
Because I no longer know where home is.

Through the alleyways to cool off in the shadows
Then into the street following the water
There's a bearded man paddling in his canoe
Looks as if he has come all the way from the Cayman Islands

These canals, it seems, they all go in circles
Places look the same, and we're the only difference
The wind is in your hair, it's covering my view
I'm holding on to you, on a bike we've hired until tomorrow

If only they could see, if only they had been here
They would understand, how someone could have chosen
To go the length I've gone, to spend just one day riding
Holding on to you, I never thought it would be this clear

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