| Inbetween the magic of the moment
|
| And the hand that holds it all
|
| Coming from the paper moon
|
| That hangs above our heads
|
| The light that hits your hair is soft and gentle
|
| Like the flowers on the walls
|
| Of desert and evacuated old heartbreak hotels
|
| And looking in your eyes I’m trapped
|
| Inside a giant sea of neonlights
|
| A tunnel of creation where I end and you begin
|
| Your heart is like a locomotive
|
| Driving patiently into the night
|
| With every single touch I feel it beating from within
|
| Your polyester skin
|
| Whether in a coma or a state of
|
| Total bliss and harmony
|
| I am often feeling like a tourist in my time
|
| No matter how far i walk or wherever
|
| I run to chase my dreams
|
| I always end up feeling
|
| Deaf and dumb and left behind
|
| And looking in your eyes I’m trapped
|
| Inside a giant sea of neonlights
|
| A tunnel of creation where I end and you begin
|
| Your heart is like a locomotive
|
| Driving patiently into the night
|
| With every single touch I feel it beating from within
|
| Your polyester skin |