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!