Now its raining its pouring the old man is snoring now I lay me down to sleep I hear the sirens in the street all my dreams are made of chrome I have no way to get back home I’d rather die before I wake like Marilyn Monroe and throw my dreams out in the street and the rain make ‘em grow
when your down on your luck and you've lost all your dreams theres nothing like a campfire and a can of beans
Their memory's like a train: you can see it getting smaller as it pulls away And the things you can't remember Tell the things you can't forget that History puts a saint in every dream.
You're innocent when you dream.
Sing me a rainbow. Steal me a dream.
and the earth died screaming, while I lay dreaming...