We had a million of days
I know that our time has run out
You're my everlasting groove
Forget the past for the time to come
In all our thoughts and we will meet again
Never leave me out here in the cold
I sing for my never ending dream
Love in December, I will always remember
Our summer with passion, a fatal attraction
Colors are fading like the leaves in November
What's left of the magic?
We had a million of days
I know that our time has run out
You're my everlasting groove
Forget the past for the time to come
In all our thoughts and we will meet again
Never leave me out here in the cold
I sing for my never ending dream
Love in December, I will always remember
Our summer with passion, a fatal attraction
Colors are fading like the leaves in November
What's left of the magic we felt in the springtime?
'Cause there's a place in the world
I know where I rather would be
In the fairy tales of love
Where everything has a happy end
A world my friend in Fantasia Land
We will be together all the time my dear
In the fairy tales of love
Love in December, I will always remember
Our summer with passion, a fatal attraction
Colors are fading like the leaves in November
What's left of the magic we felt in the springtime?
For a moment a touch could feel like a vision of an angel
Has our love and desire disappeared forever?
Always longing to have you near, feel the power and the passion
Feel me slipping from your hands, please break my fall
Love in December, I will always remember
Our summer with passion, a fatal attraction
Colors are fading like the leaves in November
What's left of the magic we felt in the springtime?
Love in December, I will always remember
Our summer with passion, a fatal attraction
Colors are fading like the leaves in November
What's left of the magic we felt in the springtime?
Love in December, I will always remember
Our summer with passion, a fatal attraction
Colors are fading like the leaves in November
What's left of the magic we felt in the springtime?
Love in December, I will always remember
Our summer with passion, a fatal attraction
Colors are fading like the leaves in November
What's left of the magic we felt in the springtime?

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