There is never a stir. There is nothing to try. Nothing more to occur. Nothing more than a sigh. There is never a murmur From the silent telephone Among the dead and the dying In Boca Raton. There's a clock on the wall. No one walks down the hall. There's a pall that descends As the episode ends. There's an air of despair And you're there all alone Among the dead and the dying In Boca Raton. So farewell to resolve! Dismantle the dreams! No more problems to solve! No more plans! No more schemes! As impenetrable darkness descends We know what this omen portends -- Simply some sobbing, Some crying -- and we moan As we join the dead and the dying In Boca Raton.