This tune reminds me of not being born yet. My parents rocked this cut back in the dayz of olive branches and roller blades in Washington Square Park. Now I bust this in the Helga house like it’s a West Village cruise-bar, circa 1982.
“What does love want me to do?”
I wonder if Shan/the lyricist behind the genius had been reading the 16th century Neo-Platonists (?)