the Beatnik Baltimore

Aren't we one for tellin' stories these days. Aren't I one for the books - pullin' on another window that won't open. Wishin' that spring air could just fall down over the mountains so this place could fill with a little light. Takin' a silent exhale on a smell of cologne.
Looking away into the corner of any room where imagination makes a moment for divination.
Might as well have been daylight -- cause nothing of the shimmer of the night could 'ya let wash over. Just gulping down that whiskey of restraint. Nothin' but space apart should we keep makin'.
But isn't that just a setting down of good memories...letting them gain dust.