Move Your Head

silver-screen girl
made-up dream girl
is deciding what you can and can't do.
are we friends or just fans of each other,
asking for autographs, waiting for photographs?

she won't budge, but i've been busy thinking
thinking "nothing matters, nothing matters!"
oh, what a disaster.

it's what we're underneath that counts:
god-shaped pink clouds,
dog-shaped pink clouds,
and, one by one, stars

while waves lull us gently with songs that we'd really rather skip.
songs for two other people, sailing some other ship.

when we get off the beach, back to the car,
they are waiting for us in the stereo
they are hiding from us in the stereo
they are playing what's right on the stereo.