I can hear the sound of dreams The cigarettes and faded blue jeans The photographs and played back scenes Never knowing what they mean I can see your days collides The indecision codified The fantasies and rising tide History happens in real time ooh ooh ooh You could be my daydream My landslide, my slipstream My devil chasing moonbeams Intention lost to the mainstream I could be your joyride Your agent on the outside Your lowest low and highest tide Watch as I revert to type ooh ooh ooh