Small town, bright lights, Saturday night   Pinballs and pool halls are flashing their lights   Making change behind the counter in a penny arcade   Sat the fat girl daughter of Virginia and Ray      Lydia, Lydia hid her thoughts like a cat   Behind her small eyes sunk deep in her fat   She read romance magazines up in her room   And felt just like Sunday on Saturday afternoon      But dreaming just comes natural   Like the first breath from a baby   Like sunshine feeding daisies   Like the love hidden deep in your heart      Bunk beds, shaved heads, Saturday night   A warehouse of strangers with sixty watt lights   Staring through the ceiling, just wanting to be   Lay one of too many, a young PFC      Donald, there were spaces between Donald and whatever he said   Strangers had forced him to live in his head   He envisioned the details of romantic scenes   After midnight in the stillness of the barracks latrine      But dreaming just comes natural   Like the first breath from a baby   Like sunshine feeding daisies   Like the love hidden deep in your heart      Hot love, cold love, no love at all   A portrait of guilt is hung on the wall   Nothing is wrong and nothing is right   Donald and Lydia made love that night      Love, they made love in the mountains, they made love in the streams   They made love in the valleys, they made love in their dreams   But when they were finished there was nothing to say   'Cause mostly they made love from ten miles away      But dreaming just comes natural   Like the first breath from a baby   Like sunshine feeding daisies   Like the love hidden deep in your heart