Live music is a sound machine,
On all four corners,
Gilded streets, nearly five in the morning,
Pavement feet meet heroin shoes
Shuffling down the block.
Pigeon claps & high hats,
Cat heads & piano chops,
Whiskey sours evening gowns,
Lemon drops with Father Brown.
The St. Claude Shuffle down the boulevard,
Where shoes straddle electric wires.
Sirens ring & bullets proof,
And the blues sing out of shotgun shacks.