On a blue agave current,
Drifts the August night,
With the scent of summer's sweet perfume,
And allure of firelight,
Seated at the holy table,
Where the old souls used to pray,
Now their spirits come to life,
At the Anyway Cafe

Angels dancing with their shadows,
Waiting to be loved,
And if you ever get too close,
They'll be pulled by the reigns above,
Vessels for a melody,
In The Future we rejoice,
Echoing the history,
Of a man with the golden voice.