Tonight the moon's as pretty as a brand new rose, and nosey stars, they seem to know where everybody goes. As poets reach for words with broken motel pens, here's something to hold on to 'til I come home again.
Out here the days they don't have names, they've got numbers. And the nights just seem to fade into each other. Jilted lovers are like fireflies, each one with a spark, trying to fill the hole where once there was a heart.
I'm sending postcards from the wasteland, following my headlights down the highway in the dark. Postmarked from the state of my heart, in care of wherever you are.
Now before the summer sun gets chased and down, and all of our tomorrows turn to yesterdays. I'm going to build you that castle, I'm going to write you that song, I've got to find the words to say until I hold you in my arms.
Tonight I'll meet you in my dreams.
See you soon.
Love,
Me
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