Lost Highway

Rolling down a grassy hill until you’re dizzy. Wet from the dew, feeling like a kid again. Take off your clothes and go for a swim. No one is around for miles. Just you and the flowers and the trees, alone together. The sun warms you up and dries you off. You’re living in a Monet painting.

Warning: you’ll be asked if you're in a band. Correct answer "not anymore."