Dreams

You're a god blassed, well dressed socialite queen I'm a redneck, half-drunk traller park breed when we go to parties, you don't want to be seed with a boy, with a boy, with a boy like me I've been hanging around whit the old silk hat Listening to the stories that the bums spit out while you're off in some wonderland Looking for a parallel kind of men I said looking for a parallel kind of men Halloween I bought you twelve white roses You asked to ride the haunted ferris wheel I was scared of heights So New York stole ya why can't it just be real why is it never real In a brooken down, brooken down, brooken down van On the side of the road where the city ends You're a dream, you're a dream, you're a dream I hed Dreams are not real, baby they're just that Dreams are not real, baby they're just that Dreams are not real, baby they're just that