It was the hottest day in July

And all along Santa Monica Boulevard

cars were stood still

And a gleaming metal tube

Would stretched all the way from highland

Back to La Brea.

And she met under the Los Angeles sunshine



Young man was sitting at the wheel

On his way to make a pickup

Turned off the air-con

Rolled down the window

And began to sweat



Out over the Hollywood hills

He saw the clouds building

Like great dark towers of rain

Ready to come tumbling down

Any day now

Not a day too soon



Any day now



And as the music drifted in

From other cars

His eyes started to slip

This is the story of his dream



Silver



Sing Blue Silver, Sing Sing Blue Silver



This is the story of his dream