(1959) George Ba**man, Chayefsky
Only the lonely love, only the sad of soul
Wake and begin their day in the middle of the night
To breakfast on their pride, burnt joys and tears just dried
To breakfast with the moon in the middle of the night
Then to count once more my miserly store of your kisses
In this darkness restored
To grasp your absent grace in desperate embrace
To make your false heart true, in the middle of the night oh oh oh
Then to count once more my miserly store of your kisses
In this darkness restored
To grasp your absent grace in desperate embrace
To make your false heart true, in the middle of the night