Retired Broadcasts From The Vista

Surprised again, spring breathes new life

Place void of death, but not alive

The greasy spoon, misshapen dreams

The fast food chains, humdrum machines

Remember when this lot was bare

Tales told by light shot through the air

Tuned radios to just the right station

Spellbound by fantasy between grass and stars

But I slipped again, lost track of when

And it's all the same, it's all so plain

I'm standing still, the town evolves

Beneath my feet, well, more like dissolves

They say it's new and shiny too

We needed change, and landfill fuel

But I've seen this place some times before

Behind the billboards on 8 lane roads

I miss the grass, I miss the stars

And I miss the things that made this ours

Stories between grass and stars

Popcorn in backseats of cars

Can't make the trip to yesteryear

This type of thing you forget to fear

And you have changed in the same way

I'm not ok, I'm not ok

Begin at the end and end where we begin

I didn't even notice it was April 3rd again

We are moving, Standale's changing,

Everything's the same

Even if what we remember's not what it became

Stories between grass and stars

Popcorn in backseats of cars

Can't make the trip to yesteryear

This type of thing you forget to fear

So tune the dial, turn up the sound

Just leave yourself and all that's around

Just lean right up to the windshield

Now who'd deny that dreams are real?

And you have changed in changeless ways

And I'm ok, yes I'm ok