| We wrote a prelude
|
| To our own fairy tale
|
| And bought a parachute
|
| At a church rummage sale
|
| And with a mean sewing machine
|
| And miles of thread
|
| We sewed the day above L.A.
|
| In navy and red
|
| We wound a race track
|
| Through your mom’s kitchen chairs
|
| And fought the shadows back
|
| Down your dark basement stairs
|
| I lit a match, then let it catch
|
| To light up the room
|
| And then you yelled as we beheld
|
| An old maroon hot air balloon
|
| I’ll be out of my mind
|
| And you’ll be out of ideas
|
| Pretty soon
|
| So let’s spend
|
| The afternoon in a cold hot air balloon
|
| Leave your jacket behind
|
| Lean out and touch the treetops over town
|
| I can’t wait
|
| Till we kiss the ground
|
| Wherever we touch back down
|
| La la la laa laaaa
|
| La la la la La la laa laaaa
|
| We drank the Great Lakes
|
| Like cold lemonade
|
| And both got stomach aches
|
| Sprawled out in the shade
|
| So bored to death you held your breath
|
| And I tried not to yawn
|
| You made my frown turn upside down
|
| And now my worries are gone
|
| I’ll be out of my mind
|
| And you’ll be out of ideas
|
| Pretty soon
|
| So let’s spend
|
| The afternoon in a cold hot air balloon
|
| Leave your jacket behind
|
| Lean out and touch the treetops over town
|
| I can’t wait
|
| Till we kiss the ground
|
| Wherever we touch back down
|
| I’ll be out of my mind
|
| And you’ll be out of ideas
|
| Pretty soon
|
| So let’s spend
|
| The afternoon in a cold hot air balloon
|
| Leave your jacket behind
|
| Lean out and touch the treetops over town
|
| I can’t wait
|
| Till we kiss the ground
|
| Wherever we touch back down |