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You want to write a song
To win her heart?
Boy, youíve got it wrong
Right from the start.
What youíre thinking of
Is an uphill climb,
íCause you canít squeeze love
Into 4/4 time.

You canít squeeze love
Into 4/4 time.
You can call her Turtle-Dove
When the high notes chime,
Get the rhythm hand-in-glove
And make the words all rhyme,
But you canít squeeze love
Into 4/4 time.

Music soothes the beasts,
Or so Iím told.
Itís the language of the priests,
Calling young and old.
Still, you canít stuff your soul
Into a four-count beat
When your heart is like a hole,
But the pain is sweet.

Sing whatís in your heart
And it comes out flat,
Though itís tearing you apart.
Been there ó done that!
The ďMoon and Stars AboveĒ
Might sound sublime,
But you canít push love
Into 4/4 time.

You canít push love
Into 4/4 time.
You can call her Turtle-Dove
When the high notes chime,
Get the rhythm hand-in-glove
And make the words all rhyme,
But you canít push love
Into 4/4 time.

I needed just a secondís glance
To spot her in the crowd.
She came when I first sang out loud,
There to watch me take my chance.
Pawn shop guitars in storefront bars
Went jangling through my head.
A kid misread, with words unsaid,
Wasting wishes on the stars.
Each song I sang, I sang for her,
Like all those years ago.
And now as then, she could not know
Just how real those love songs were.

I was going to close
And head for home alone
When my secret love arose
And grabbed the microphone.
She signalled to the band
And gave her friends a wink,
Then she took me by the hand
Singing, Donít you think

We could shove a little love
Into 4/4 time,
If itís me youíre thinking of
When the high notes chime?
The rhythmís hand-in-glove
And the words all rhyme,
So, letís shove a little love
Into 4/4 time.

We can shove a lot oí love
Into 4/4 time,
If itís me youíre thinking of
When the high notes chime.
The rhythmís hand-in-glove
And the words all rhyme,
So, letís shove a little love
Into 4/4 time.