I admit, my thinking is wishful like a star upon a child gazing up to the ceiling
How far do we have to stretch the truth to fit the lifestyles borrowed and overdue?
We can take it all back to the register and start all over from the canister, let's break it all down into pieces of bright, moments that pass by like a meteorite
Throw on your favorite reel that's good to go, on the analog player watch the people glow
Sit back to the breeze let the memories flow, comedy, tragedy, all the highs and lows