I'm on the phone while I'm driving Take my hand off of these wheels To keep my legs from shaking Moving to the crashing of cymbals Growing into themes, near to mesmerize But never right on time
You say that you mean it this time more? Last time turned to nothing, this I'm sure
But I've been wrong before And how this feels, and how Liz sings I won't decorate my love Has got me thinking It's got me dreaming
Of imaginary times, on an imaginary couch Listening to imaginary records, and with imaginary mouths Saying: Boy, this is it, this must be it Please, can't this be it?
