, . , . , . , . , . , . , . , .
I can hear the soft breathing of the girl that I love,
As she lies here beside me asleep with the night.
Her hair in a fine mist floats on my pillow,
Reflecting the glow of the winter moonlight.
But I've got to creep down the alleyway,
Fly down the highway,
Before they come to catch me I'll be gone.
Somewhere they can't find me.
Oh baby, you don't know what I've done,