Smoky jazz music floats on air
Carried by the whispers of prohibition
Deep woods moonshine
Flashing smiles from pearls to cigar tips
Soft velvet red coating lips
Hiding behind champagne glasses
Their fresh diamonds sing of blood
I watch from the office chair
Wing backed, cushioned
Fit for a queen
Bayou queen with swamp water veins
Ebony skin like satin
Whiskey eyes that take it all in
I built this from nothing, hole in the wall
This is my town
You have to pay to play
My debt book is thick
Your names like a mantra I hum beneath the saxophone tune
I'll get my money
*Or I'll get you