On the sunny side of our sinning streets,
Sir, it rained, rained, rained
On our chance to start again.
On the theatre side of our wingèd streets,
They explained, day-plain,
That I’d never play the Dane

Without love. Won’t you give a leg a break?
Without love, won’t you walk out of flame?
Without love, put the candle to her name.

What frightens you most? The future’s haste.
Yet it’s death, death, death
That gives love its funny taste.
With my little eye, I spy a little eye,
And she’s pious for the fight,
Scratches ladders in my sight

Without love. Jump out of the plane.
Without love, pull your things out of the flames.
Without love, put the candle to her name.

Here tonight we toast that happy day,
Tonight, enghost it deep. Pray,
Raise high your balloons to hoist the day
That a sad sod wrote a sad song.

Pour down to the lake, bring your girl and gun,
We’ll make rain, rain, rain,
Pluck the gulls out of the sun.
On the sunny side of our sinning streets,
It just rained, rained, rained.
Thus we sign off every day:

Without love. Get the fuck out of the flame.
Without love, put the candle to her name.
Without love, put the candle to the flame.
Put the candle to the flame.