In the age of the nighthawks
In the sweat soaked  Southern Saturday nights
On the dance floors of Midnights Voice we melted like birds tangled together falling in flight

I think back and wonder
at how much I had to lose
I think back and wonder about how much I did lose

Nights moves at its darkest hours
Sultry bodies writhing  in anticipation
Liberation on the sawdust floors

She had luna eyes
that captured your stare
She twisted in rapture
A phantom floating in air
A delight to anyone . . .
then , now or anywhere

Oh , the wondering
Oh , while I was pondering

Now the night has lost all its moves
Time has scratched all of the grooves
The darkness still as death
No one since has gotten to you yet

You said the trick was to never play the game too
long

(So I didn't)

So now my night moves have all . . . moved on