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
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