I grew up in Northern Virginia, Reading the Washington Post, Dreaming about a place called Blues Alley, In Georgetown, Imagined drinking a ***** K-One ***** Martini, neat, and smoking Camel non-filters, Listening to a sultry, ****, singer, Holding onto your hand, Like we accidentally walked into an ***** den, After, We’d stroll down M Street, Looking for a cup of coffee, So I could continue to be with you, To afraid to kiss you, To afraid to ask you to spend the rest of the night/morning, To afraid to say good-bye, To afraid you’d never come back,