Whatever happened to warm summer nights?
Crisp moons?
Vacant chairs in a room full of distant memories?
My inspiration comes at dusk.
When only the soft can hear me.
When I sit alone on the rooftop,
Screaming.
Save me from my innovations!
Cherish my recollections!
Ins't there any way?
Any propose?
Any reasoning?
What ever happened to the gatherings?
Where the glasses were filled with drunken, eager souls,
Impatient for a footloose renaissance glee.
Why cant every eve be a clever throng of people
Just waiting to drown their sorrows in a salted lake of jubilee?
Whatever happened to simple summer nights?
Whatever happened to love?