Russian Hill

I dreamt about a tranquil Sunday drive A sensory lullaby We trade the comics, cartoons, and magazines For pistons and gasoline We see the road from the bedside Parked under the sunshine We feel the warmth of the engine so we climb inside And take it to the motorway Watch the clouds turn into faces it's fun to play Shift the gears for years and age a single day Until we spill onto Russian Hill Past cathedrals filled with God's favorite guests Dirty hands feel clean when dressed in their Sunday best Treeline village oh so heavenly Cross a bridge of gold to landscapes of juniper Only Eden is for millionaires Watch the clouds turn into faces its fun to play Shift the gears for years and age a single day Until we spill onto Russian Hill I'm pulling through the last stoplight We head home past the shoreline And through the rear view mirror it all melts away 'Til we're helpless Watch the clouds turn into faces its fun to play (We're hopeless) We shift the gears for years and age a single day (It fades away) For like curtains close this sunset matinee A dream fulfilled on Russian Hill