What is developed, enveloped in the dark  And is stopped at the very start?  What does light create, like the sight of a star  That eminates from afar?  A deb at a dance in an old portrait  Now for romance, it's a little late  But there in her swoon it's a sliver too soon  To shoot the silvery moon  chorus- Here's the record, just as another  The past is over, over and over  Here's the record, the same as any other  Until it's over, over and over  It's a rain-stricken Sunday, all the shutters are closed  I'm striking a nautral pose  A compsite formed of opposites shows  Undeveloped, overexposed  Adelina Patti to deathlessness destined  But one so unrefined  Her image is fixed, breathlessly declined  The flash is upon you  The light it astounds you  Now darkness surrounds you, it's the same in sound  Unsafe, unsound  Chorus  The past is over, hold your lover  Your past is over