Текст: Paul Simon. 1964-1993. How The Heart Approaches What It Yearns.

In the blue light of the Belvedere Motel
Wondering as the television burns
How the heart approaches what it yearns

In a fever I distinctly hear your voice
Emerging from a dream, the dream returns
How the heart approaches what it yearns

After the rain on the interstate
Headlights slide past the moon
A bone weary traveler waits by the side of the road
Where's he goin'?

I dream we are lying on the top of a hill
An' headlights slide past the moon
I roll in your arms and your voice is the heat of the night
I'm on fire

In a phone booth in some local bar and grill
Rehearsing what I'll say, my coin returns
How the heart approaches what it yearns
How the heart approaches what it yearns