Jeff Zarling - Generation X

We turn the dial beneath the blanket
Searching stations through the night
Waiting for the perfect song
To rise above the waves of white
A finger resting on the record button
Hoping no one spoke too soon
We caught our dreams on plastic tape
Inside a quiet bedroom
The telephone went round in circles
Every number took its tongue
And every voice meant something more
When someone stayed upon the line
We learned that waiting had a meaning
We learned that distance made things real