Contemporary Bohemia

There's static in the streets

Beneath the palms of the drummer mans beats

& the curb is tight with crowds

No armchair enthusiasts

Every one jumps right on in

To avoid the joys of whim would be an absolute sin

I know the men in these towers

Suits, ties, losing out on hours

They're filing paper, while I'm tryin' to escape with her.

Were consumed by these concrete walkways

The windows of glitz

It's a real spectacle not for the faint of heart

There's no compass nor Columbus chart

 journeys like this derive from intuition

& the suspicion that we could do better

Busy with a soul to unfetter