Now the future's staring at me. like a vision from the past,. and I know these crumbs they sold me,. they're never gonna last.. Though we know the culture war,.
In the middle of the summer. I'm not sleeping. Cold wind. Blowing. . In the middle of the night they. Try to find me. But I'm still. Driving. . If you're going to San Francisco.
Cold wind it blows. Blowing through like Sunday morning. Chills my bones, take me home, take me home. Home is where the heart is,. but my heart's been truly stolen.
Cold wind it blows,. blowing through you like Sunday morning.. Chill in my bones, take me home, take me.. Home is where the heart is, but my heart's been truly stolen..