| The signal lights jerk in the wind
|
| And snow blows off the road like sand,
|
| The driver squints and sets his chin,
|
| He’s got to hold the upper hand,
|
| Saginaw by midnight, that’s the plan
|
| And then the snow blows harder still
|
| On covered roads and slip’ry hills,
|
| This trip will surely test his will…
|
| Dream, dream
|
| Of a Sunday,
|
| Dream, dream,
|
| Safe in bed,
|
| Dream, dream,
|
| With the sheets high round your head,
|
| Home instead,
|
| Dream, dream,
|
| Dream, dream…
|
| She don’t sell drugs or ev’ning news,
|
| She’s got those rosebuds in her hand,
|
| She took those Goodwill, bulky shoes
|
| Because she’s got so long to stand
|
| Down there where the offramp meets with Grand
|
| And when the dark cuts off the day,
|
| She’ll drag that box and walk away,
|
| Back to that place they let her stay…
|
| Dream, dream
|
| Of a Sunday,
|
| Dream, dream,
|
| Safe in bed,
|
| Dream, dream,
|
| With the sheets high round your head,
|
| Home instead,
|
| Dream, dream…
|
| Someday soon the breaks won’t bring you down;
|
| One day soon you’ll wake up safe and sound.
|
| So now Hadzici’s been returned
|
| And Tuesday night Ilidza will,
|
| So many houses here’ve been burned,
|
| Their ol' town hall stands smold’ring still,
|
| Muslim cheers and car horns split the chill
|
| And though he’s far from home tonight,
|
| And though it’s not his fight to fight,
|
| The cause for peace must mean it’s right…
|
| Dream, dream
|
| Of a Sunday,
|
| Dream, dream,
|
| Safe in bed,
|
| Dream, dream,
|
| With the sheets high round your head,
|
| Home instead,
|
| Dream, dream,
|
| Dream, dream,
|
| Dream, dream,
|
| Dream, dream… |