He'll be young forever if he keeps this up
So the bedroom playboy's never going to grow up
The heart is a secret garden
to which there are no short cuts
Only green young fingers make the garden bloom;
for the serious young man now is always too soon -
The heart is a secret garden,
the head is a darkened room
Close your eyes
how does it feel to be in love?
Much too difficult, you shove
green fingers into gloves
Get those fingers dirty - now you're getting warm;
blood those hands with passion,
turn your face to the storm
The heart is a bed of roses,
The heart is a bed of thorns
Bleed, green finger, bleed
Some future memory stirs
someone's always getting burned
if intensity holds true
If it's real to be in love
how does it feel to be in love?
Green fingers stripped of gloves