I dreamt about a tranquil Sunday drive

A sensory lullaby

We trade the comics, cartoons, and magazines

For pistons and gasoline



We see the road from the bedside

Parked under the sunshine

We feel the warmth of the engine so we climb inside

And take it to the motorway



Watch the clouds turn into faces it's fun to play

Shift the gears for years and age a single day

Until we spill onto Russian Hill



Past cathedrals filled with God's favorite guests

Dirty hands feel clean when dressed in their Sunday best

Treeline village oh so heavenly

Cross a bridge of gold to landscapes of juniper



Only Eden is for millionaires



Watch the clouds turn into faces its fun to play

Shift the gears for years and age a single day

Until we spill onto Russian Hill



I'm pulling through the last stoplight

We head home past the shoreline

And through the rear view mirror it all melts away

'Til we're helpless



Watch the clouds turn into faces its fun to play

(We're hopeless)

We shift the gears for years and age a single day

(It fades away)

For like curtains close this sunset matinee

A dream fulfilled on Russian Hill