Like a sliding sloping superman,Droping and jumping,Gromets thumping,Tilters on dirty filters,octane 98.Whatever the planets state,Driving driving, avoiding coliding into the anne Deux mille.Already drinking wine from the last millenium.Swim and swirl into Alcholic oblivion, into memorian droplets,Ruby the sacrament.Her face white,cheeks tight at night,Eyes strong,hair long in the wind,then gone,A part of me apart from me, and neither of us free,The lady with guitar strings, like jet streams,cuts through,blue skys.Somewhere between memories and dreams. If I cant find peace here,With your face so near.So how can I have fun, when theres none at the fair.