Images in black and white romanticize an age
I've only seen as a starry eyed child
inspired by songs that spoke through time to me.

The sites and sounds of days gone by
ingrained the very fabric of my being.
I'm a second hand child raised on
the hopes they'd sewn inside of me.

Such a lovely dream.
Such a lovely dream.
Such a lovely dream.

I rest my head and close my eyes
and find myself somwhere among those
artisans of space and time.
Their serenades a sprawling tapestry.
Intertwined, cascading, tracing the folds that mold society.

And no one has grown older
no one's died or left their prime it's quite a scene.
There's no past, no present
inside a world remote and timeless.

Such a lovely dream.
Such a lovely dream.
Such a lovely dream.

I rest my head and close my eyes
and find myself somewhere beyond these
charlatans who claim to be disciples praising lesser teachings.
Mass produced and sold by false messiahs.

All those corporate sponsored saviors
changed our art into disposable devices.

Such a lovely dream.
Such a lovely dream.
Such a lovely dream.