It's 10 o'clock in Toronto, I check into a room on the 21st floor.I'm traveling on cruise control, turn on the TV and lock the door.I hear a news reporter, she says, we're looking to the sky tonight.We're in the midst of a lunar eclipse, what a heavenly sight.I pull back the curtains and there, above the building, across the street,I spy the man in the moon playing hide-and-seek.I try to keep my eye fixed on that elusive moon,but I'm distracted across the way, I can see into some moves.There's a young woman sitting at a desk, so busy writing.Now a man sits next to her, looks like they're fighting.She buries her head in her hands and silently she cries.He gets up, faces, pounds the wall, shakes his fist up to the sky.Two rooms down I can see Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly.No, it's just a Hitchcock film, a widescreen color TV.Over in the corner there's an old man playing with a black cat.If he saw me spying like this, what would he think of that?Would he think that I am a voyeur, or just another lonely one?An interlover taking notes of heartache on the run.Oh, oh, ooh.Ba-da-dee-dee.Ba-da-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee.Now the moon is bathed in shadows, that woman is bathed in tears.Grace Kelly bathed in the limelight for so many years.I'm bathed in the darkness behind this window pane.Watching light and love and life wax and wane.Now the old man and the black cat are dozing in an easy chair.Our vision's dancing in their heads of moonbeams in the air.Oh, oh, ooh.Ba-da-dee-dee.Ba-da-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee.It's ten o'clock in Toronto.Ten o'clock in Toronto.Ten o'clock in Toronto.Ten o'clock in Toronto.