We walked in the cold air.
Freezing breath on a window pane, Lying and waiting.
So mystic and soulful.
The man in the dark in a picture frame,
It stays with you until
A voice reaching out in a piercing cry, It means nothing to me.
This means nothing to me.
The feeling has gone only you and I.
Oh, Vienna. The music is weaving
The rhythm is calling.
Haunting notes, pizzicato strings,
A cool empty silence.
Alone in the night as the daylight brings,
It fades to the distance. The warmth of your hand and a cold grey sky,
This means nothing to me.
The image has gone only you and I.
It means nothing to me.
Oh, Vienna. This means nothing to me.
Oh, ViennaThis means nothing to me.
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