In a quiet street washed by the rain, the room within the home. A lonely man sits cheek to cheek, with unique designs in chrome. The mellow years have long gone by, but now he sits alone. He has a brand new radio, but never turns it on.
[Chorus] New Europeans. Young Europeans. New Europeans.
A photograph of lovers lost, lies pressed in magazines. Her eyes belong to a thousand girls, she's the wife who's never seen. Their educated son has left, in search of borrowed dreams. His television's in his bed, he's frozen to the screen.
On a crowded beach washed by the sun, he puts his headphones on. His modern world revolves around the synthesizer's song. Full of future thoughts and thrills, his senses slip away. He's a European legacy, a culture for today.