She says, "Love can be murderer, if one is not willing to change."

But if he calls her tonight,
she will be walking on air.

He says, "Love can be a murderer, a cold-hearted mistress."

And if she crawls into his bed tonight,
he will burn up from within.


Love can be a murderer,
a tear-filled song of lost memories.
So keep sliding those dimes into the jukebox, baby,
and dance with yourself by standing still.

Keep dropping those dimes into the jukebox, baby,
and break the promises yet again.
Can't change if you are giving away the change,
by sliding dimes into the jukebox, can you?

Tonight, there has to be a last call in the bar,
and the jukebox will sit in shadow,
waiting for you to come back tomorrow
with another pocket full of change to squander.


"I can change, I can make change, I can make change....I can change!"


The bar empties out
and the front doors are locked,
as an old barmaid begins mopping the floor.

She hums happily to herself:


"I stopped sliding dimes into the jukebox, my sweet Geppetto,
my heart is no longer dried and wooden."

"I stopped dropping dimes into the jukebox, baby,
false love can murder me no more."