It was the hottest day in July, and all along Santa Monica boulevard, cars were stood still in a gleaming metal tube that stretched all the way from Highland back to La Brea, and shimmered under the Los Angeles sunshine. A young man was sitting at the wheel on his way to make a pick up - turned off the air-con, rolled down the window, and began to sweat. All over the Hollywood hills, he saw the clouds building like great, dark towers of rain, ready to come tumbling down. Any day now! Not a day too soon. (Any day now) And as the music drifted in (drifted in from the) from the other cars, (his eyes started) his eyes started to slip. This is the story dream. ( -blue silver, sing, sing blue silver) … (this is the story of his dream) … (the story of his dream)