Horses pull caravans
Through Saskatchewan
I feel lonely but I'm not alone
A single girl escapes another man
Left slain, still, besotted and stoned
I study her tattoos
False alarms and loaded blues
Brief conversations in tune
To sculpt the Dream King's clay
Dreams are just clouds anyway
That yield to the sunlight too soon
We could be The Typewriters
We could be somebody's Stones
Lost in tomorrow painting words in dull monotone
Sitting in a bar
Or in the backseat of a car
Your song's such a long way from home