[bad word]  when the pale moon like a petal 
Floats in the pearly dusk of Spring, [bad word] with arms outstretched to take me, [bad word] with lips that long to cling. 
 [bad word]  for life is a frail moth flying,
Caught in the web of the years that pass, 
And soon we two, so warm and eager, 
Will be as the gray stones in the grass.

Are you sure? Are you sure? Are you knockin at my front door?

Until I lose my soul and lie
Blind to the beauty of the earth,
Deaf though lyric wind goes by,
Dumb in a storm of mirth;

Until my heart is quenched at length
And I have left the land of men,
Oh, let me love with all my strength
Careless if I am loved again.

Are you sure? Are you sure? Are you knockin at my front door?