Seventeen stories

Feeling romantic; in this seat of seventeen stories This far up, I plainly see the wind beneath the bushes and trees So tell me, Angel, in front of me, is this your view of our glories? Did this experience give you peace enough to please? Or was I boring to you with my thoughts, deep interrogatories? When I enjoy the best of my life, from a bended pair of knees It's because the weight is so great of our inventories There is no scale I know of that measures to their degrees But oh, the heat that is produced by such fabled stories Rivaling a summer tradewinds warmest breeze