"Well the bricks lay on Grand Street
Where the neon madmen climb
They all fall there so perfectly
It all seems so well timed
And here I sit so patiently
Waiting to find out what price
You have to pay to get out of
Going through all these things twice"
"I was born here and I'll die here,
against my will
I know it looks like I'm movin',
but I'm standin' still
Every nerve in my body
is so vacant and numb
Can't even remember what it was
I came here to get away from"
"Inside the museums, infinity goes up on trial
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
But Mona Lisa must have had the highway blues
Ya can tell by the way she smiles"
Oh, pilot of the storm that leaves no trace, like thoughts inside a dream
Heed the path that led me to that place, a yellow desert stream
My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon, I will return again
Sure as the dust that floats high in June, when movin' through Kashmir.