I want to find myself a girl who can show me what laughter means, and we'll fill in the missing numbers in each others paint-by-numbers dreams.
Caught between the longing for love, and the struggle for the legal tender, where the sirens sing and the church bells ring, and the junk man pounds his fender. Where the veterans dream of the fight, fast asleep at the traffic light, and the children solemnly wait for the ice cream vendor.
I want to know what became of the changes we waited for love to bring/Were they only the fitful dreams of some greater awakening?
Out into the cool of the evening strolls the pretender. He knows that all his hopes and dreams begin and end there.
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