|
Last night I dreamt that I was you |
|
I was dressed all in black with dark glasses and attitude |
|
Such a pose I could simply not hold |
|
Through days in a northern town that I had once called a home |
|
And your studies of fringe New York streets |
|
I was reading the pavement in every word you would speak |
|
To a brownstone up three flights of stairs and it's on |
|
Buying drinks for the poets upstate |
|
This southern corruption towed you down the interstate |
|
And they all said that you were the king |
|
Of a gloomy disruption that surfaced when you would sing |
|
And this town simply cannot compete |
|
So I'm packing my Bullets and Silvertones and heading east |
|
To a brownstone up three flights of stairs and it's on |
|
If I could've had my way, this year would bridge '66 again? |
|
Trust fund hipsters were casing the room |
|
Chock full of amphetamines the overturned kick drum boom |
|
Set the pace with incomparable cool |
|
And if the temp was lousy it was lost on all but you |
|
And your studies of fringe New York streets |
|
I was reading the pavement in every word you would speak |
|
To a brownstone up three flights of stairs and it's on, on, on, it's on |
|
If I could've had my way, this year would bridge '66 again? |
|
If I could've had my way, this year would bridge '66 again? |