In a quiet street washed by the rain the room within the home A lonely man sits cheek to cheek with unique designs in chrome The mellow years have long gone by, but now he sits alone He has a brand new radio, but never turns it on New Europeans Young Europeans New Europeans A photograph of lovers lost lies pressed in magazines Her eyes belong to a thousand girls, she's the wife who's never seen Their educated son has left in search of borrowed dreams His television's in his bed, he's frozen to the screen New Europeans Young Europeans New Europeans On a crowded beach washed by the Sun he puts his headphones on His modern world revolves around the synthesizer's song Full of future thoughts and thrills, his senses slip away He's a European legacy, a culture for today New Europeans Young Europeans New Europeans Young Europeans