A ghost in a bag of dreams

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.