Can you make that hollow sound in the hole of the music ok?
That echo at the end of the world he pours his voice into?
That Sophie’s World end it seems to say we’re all heading for.
Can you teach me to stick my head out the window
And smile as the real world goes by?
They say you can, Indie Film lover,
with your hands on the old beater’s wheel
Sweet Mid-America smile, eyes wide, blank light inside
That hollow song pouring over us through the sunshine.
It’s Utopia, a fool’s paradise that the echo’s leading us to.
A wide-open highway to a world that never existed
And it’s taking us there at speed
Indie Film lover,
I say to you with my face in the breeze, my hair blows along the powder blue car,
the tin can voice draining my heart
I’m something else, darling
I can’t stay in your pseudocide car
Am afraid of the blank margin we’re going to and have already gotten too far
I can’t stay for the grand canyon
I get out before you jump the gun