Drive By

It was the hottest day in July

and all along Santa Monica boulevard

cars were stood still

and a gleaming metal tube

would stretch all the way from the highlands,

back to La Brea,

and she met under Los Angeles sunshine.

Young man was sitting at the wheel,

on his way to make a pick up

turned off the air-con,

rolled down window

and began too sweat.

Out over the Hollywood hills,

he saw the clouds building

like great dark towers of rain,

ready to come tumblng down,

any day, now,

not a day too soon.

And as the music drifted in,

from other cars,

his eyes started to slip:

this is the story of his dream...

Sing blue Silver...

....this is the story of his dream...