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Written by bob welch. |
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It's the same kind of story |
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That seems to come down from long ago |
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Two friends having coffee together |
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When something flies by their window |
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It might be out on that lawn |
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Which is wide, at least half of a playing field |
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Because there's no explaining what your imagination |
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Can make you see and feel |
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Seems like a dream |
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(they) got me hypnotized |
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Now it's not a meaningless question |
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To ask if they've been and gone |
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I remember a talk about north |
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Carolina and a strange, strange pond |
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You see the sides were like glass |
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In the thick of a forest without a road |
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And if any man's ever made that land |
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Then i think it would've showed |
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Seems like a dream |
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(they) got me hypnotized |
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They say there's a place down in mexico |
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Where a man can fly over mountains and hills |
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And he don't need an airplane or some kind of engine |
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And he never will |
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Now you know it's a meaningless question |
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To ask if those stories are right |
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'cause what matters most if the feeling |
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You get when you're hypnotized |
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Seems like a dream |
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(they) got me hypnotized |
