I feel the moon hitting the blacktop,. Just like a fuse, making the night so hot,. Forget the truth until tomorrow,. You'll be my Hughes, I'll be your Harlow,. All I know is you stole my eyes
so invisible to them I feel like I'm in. Some John Hughes film. Like a dream we've all had. Where you can't run too fast. Tomorrow we'll wake up. Crying and smiling Driving on up to the Hollywood
Campfire cookies. And John Hughes movies. Jr. Mints and cold shower Tuesdays. November shivers and rear view mirrors. And the little things like that, little things like that Tell her I'm not sorry