I can hear the sound of dreams
The cigarettes and faded blue jeans
The photographs and played back scenes
Never knowing what they mean
I can see your days collides
The indecision codified
The fantasies and rising tide
History happens in real time
Ooh ooh ooh
You could be my daydream
My landslide, my slipstream
My devil chasing moonbeams
Intention lost to the mainstream
I could be your joyride
Your agent on the outside
Your lowest low and highest tide
Watch as I revert to type
Ooh ooh ooh
