I descended a dusty gravel ridge
beneath the Bixby Canyon Bridge
until I eventually arrived
at the place where your soul had died.
Barefoot in the shallow creek,
I grabbed some stones from underneath,
and waited for you to speak to me.
And the silence -it became so very clear
that you had long ago disappeared.
I cursed myself for being surprised
that this didn't play like it did in my mind,
all the way from San Francisco,
as I chased the end of your road
'cause I've still got miles to go.
And I want to know my fate.
If I keep up this way
it's hard to want to stay
awake,
when everyone you meet
-they all seem to be asleep,
and you wonder if you're missing the dream.
You can't see a dream.
You can't see a dream.
You just can't see a dream.
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
Dream
-then it started getting dark.
I trudged back to where the car was parked.
No closer to any kind of truth,
as I must assume was the case with you.
-DCFC
