The coffeehouse steam, a beatnik's dream,
You're a king in a world of scat and scribbled verse.
Your eyes hold a truth, a raw and ruthless proof,
That shatters my calm, for better or worse.
You talk 'bout Kerouac, the road, the knack,
Your confidence is a fortress, a towering stack.
And I'm just a cat, with a worn-out hat,
Trying to find a crack, imagine that.
But then you laugh, and the sun breaks through!
For a dizzy moment, I know just what to do!
Then the night descends, and the silence screams,
And you're just a ghost in a bag of dreams.
Yeah, you're just a ghost in a bag of dreams.
Alone in my pad, the good, the bad,
Your echo's the only fad I've ever had.
The scent of your smoke, the joke you spoke,
A lingering spell that I gently stroke.
I reach for the phone, a silent moan,
A dial tone drone, I'm utterly alone.
Then it rings, sharp and clear, cutting through the fear,
And I cling to your voice, "Hey, are you there, my dear?"
'Cause you laugh, and the sun breaks through!
For a dizzy moment, I know just what to do!
Then the night descends, and the silence screams,
And you're just a ghost in a bag of dreams.
Yeah, you're just a ghost in a bag of dreams.
We're strangers, still, on this spinning wheel,
But your presence is a truth I can feel.
I see your demands, your upright hands,
A moral code that the square world understands.
And I'm on the shore, wanting more, but unsure,
Watching your distant light, so brilliant and pure.
A fledgling thing, this song we sing,
I'm perched on the edge, just watching you swing.
And you laugh, and the sun breaks through!
For a dizzy moment, I know just what to do!
Then the night descends, and the silence screams,
And you're just a ghost... a beautiful, frightening ghost...
In my beatnik dreams.
...in my beatnik dreams.
Yeah...
Dig it?
...Cool.
