The trees are lined with gold along the highway to you.
No sound in what's ahead, of bitter deception.
I close my eyes and I feel your fear.
You see the faces, deep in the night and you say
reach for the red
close your eyes hold your head.
The trees are lined with gold. It can't be time, I can't let go.
I rip away and look for an answer
white mask, white walls and all of your pain.
The mountains are shining gold along the L.A. Freeway.
I take offense to what fate has offered
and you reach for something, a color to hold.