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Oct 2014
come in late, the band's already settingΒ Β up,
On a hot night in New Orleans,
furniture murmurs along grainy floors,
sounding too heavy to make it off the ground
-the night has that feel-
light hangs ***** in the air.
I could stick around for the show,
but you're upstairs.

through the floor - we feel it - we hear it-
those first few notes-erratic-blasting
-a few too sharp, you might wince,
but each note tunes a little tighter,
until they all cut us free.

On hot night in New Orleans,
we can only move in music,
my body against your body like a drum,
Bah-dum, bah-dum;
every gasp, a cymbal crash,
interrupted by my tongue,
Tis-ah, tis-ah;
the brass follows in, feeling their way,
Brah-dah-dah, brah-dah-dah,
slightly rough at first,
but then, they find their grasp,
squeezing the keys-pressing ******* the valves-pumping the slide,
Bah-dum-brah--dah-tis-ah-dah;
now the night is alive,
you can feel the strings coming,
Dee-dah-doh-dah-dum-dum;
and we're dancing as nimbly as the keys until the band packs up.

On a hot night in New Orleans
we're in love.
Benjamin Woolley
Written by
Benjamin Woolley  Phoenix
(Phoenix)   
602
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