Walking on Tinker Street
I remember walking on Tinker Street without so many cars No giving way to well-dressed groups of tourists, crowded bars I remember when just being here was all you could ask for It’s still a slice of heaven but it’s not Woodstock anymore I remember knowing people’s names and where they lived before Most from New York City some small room, a padlocked door We were searching for a spirit once imagined, now ignored It’s still a slice of heaven but it’s not ...