Pale, pubescent beasts, roam through the streets
And coffee shops, their prey gather in herds
Of stiff knee length skirts and white ankle socks
But while they search for a mate, my type hibernate
In bedrooms above, composing their songs of love
Young, uniform minds, in uniform lines
And uniform ties, run round with trousers on fire
And signs of desire, they cannot disguise
While I try to find words, as light as the birds
That circle above, to put in my songs of love
-from Divine Comedy's " Songs Of Love "