Frozen out of focus, the Sunday crowd
started dreaming of television turned up too loud.
And coded conversation, half baked and tired,
left us sleepy on blacktops burning the motor mile.And underneath the arcade, details collide.
There's good shopping, but all those patrons have too much style.
And moving in slow motion the boulevard started seething,
with hip half-ravers in techno bars.It Ends Life along the neon sky.
All speeding past,
collide and crashing,
I'm in paradise.Sealed in concentration, the lantern lights,
started shrinking on dead men drinking white liquor wine.
And iced, a complication, the methane gas
started leaking on bastards burning, half bred and black.
We can ride along in perfect time,
or speeding past,
collide and crashing,
I'm in paradise.And standing at the gates of NC state fair,
I saw you smoking with all those new friends you've got to spare.
And melting back in focus, the Sunday crowd
started sleeping with white trash heroes, t.v.'s turned downIn their eyes, along the neon sky.
All speeding past, collide and crashing. I'm in paradise.
We can ride along in perfect time.
Go dreaming of the white trash heroes on the motor mile.It ends life along the neon sky.
All speeding past,
collide and crashing
on the motor mile.
We can't lie along in perfect time.
All dreaming of
the white trash heroes.
I'm in paradise.
