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