---

The smoke I'm breathing in,
reminds me of the fair.
All the ground is hot,
and all my friends are there,
just wheeling over the night.

I'm out late again,
locked up with a friend.
We're drinking down the hours,
and talking over when,
things seemed a little more pretend.

I dreamed it, and I wrote it down,
oh and it came off the page and wore me out.
Now I'm staring it down.

That blonde from Brooklyn
bought a better dress.
She brightened up her teeth,
and gave the world her best.
Now she's gleaming like the southern lights.

I watched those city flowers bloom from broken seeds.
Rising up like towers,
living still like weeds.
Had me believing the city was the key.

I dreamed it, and I wrote it down,
oh and it came off the page and wore me out.
Now I'm staring it down.

The smoke I'm breathing in,
reminds me of city air.
All the building tops,
so unaware.
Just screaming like a cat power line.

I dreamed it, and I wrote it down,
oh and it came off the page and wore me out.
Now I'm staring it down.

---

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