In the blue light
of the beverly motel
wondering as the television burns
how the heart approaches what it yearns
In a fever
i distinctly hear your voice
emerging from a dream, the dream returns
how the heart approaches what it yearns
After the rain on the interstate
headlights slide past the moon
a bone-weary traveler that
waits by the side of the road
where's he going?
In a dream we are lying on the top of a hill
and headlights slide past the moon
i roll in your arms
and your voice is the heat of the night
i'm on fire
In a phone booth
in some local bar and grill
rehearsing what i'll say, my coin returns
how the heart approaches what it yearns
how the heart approaches what it yearns