Letras
Thursday night, seven pm at the restaurant
Bouquet of roses, tucked between your legs
But still no sign of that '67 Chevy, turns up in view
Looks like she won't show up anytime soon
Monday morning, nine am at the auto repair
They're understaffed so you're working double shifts
For the same wage your daddy earned back in the summer of '55
Yeah, but not much changes around here
Another year passes by
But you'll be in this town till the day you die
You know it's hard to live with static dreams
Sunday night, ten pm and you're still awake
Dreaming of somewhere far away
A land where smokestacks and billows of smog don't block out the night stars
Yeah, that place is still so far away
Another year passes by
But you'll be in this town till the day you die
You know it's hard to live with static dreams