Three-month ride sticks in your mind
As though the insides of your head were a big screen
Coming in on the evening wind
It's the unmistakable scent of brilliantine
What kind of memory serves, what kind of world is it?
Comes headlong at you, then swerves at the last possible second
It's this one
Yeah, it's this one

And it's easy to slow down
And it's easy to slow down
And it's easy to just lie out by the blue pools
In the squinting Sun and slow down
And it's easy to slow down

And in situations like these, it's sometimes useful to
Think of life as one long continuous evening
That never turns into night
Hey, hey!