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