Russian Hill

I dreamt about a tranquil Sunday drive

A sensory lullaby

We trade the comic cartoons and magazines

For pistons and gasoline

We see the road from the bedside

Parked under the sunshine

And feel the warmth of the engine

So we climb inside

And take 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

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

Till 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