She Can't Act, She Can't Sing, She Can't Dance. A Triple Threat.

What's wrong with the way we talk? What's the big idea? Are we dumb or something?

All we do is dream of you the whole night through. With the dawn we still go on, dreaming of you. You're every thought, you're everything, you're every song we ever sing; summer, winter, autumn and spring. And were there more than twenty four hours a day; they'd be spent in sweet content dreaming away; when skies are grey, when skies are blue; morning, noon and night time too. All we do the whole day through is dream of you.

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