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"Pacific coast highway"

There will be no evening out
The shadows of doubt are powerless now
Still the angels over your house
Are weary but indiminished

By the misused wonder
Of a chip-tooth summer
By the golden age
That got started on the wrong page
By the broken gauge
That can only miscommunicate

Halos hanging over the crowns
Even though my voice sounds different now
There is sweetness still to be found
Perpetually unfinished

I still see them meeting
Where the sketch sheet street ends

In a different place
Where we'll say it straight to your face
With a different name
You could alternate a different way
In another time
I could tell you how you changed me
How you changed me
With a different voice
I could sing you something pretty