The thought of her comes across my mind
So I drive to her house
staring at her scarf hung around my rear view mirror the whole way
she steps into my car
we drive straight to sanborn street

I keep my head down low
as I wait for the man with the blow
he walks over to us with a swag
gets in the car and hands me the bag
each time he says be safe

I hold the bag close to my nose and take a wiff
of that wonderful gasoline smell
then she cuts a line for each of us to sniff
the powder rises through the straw
instantly I make a face of awe
as my lips and tongue go numb

energy and benevolence surges through me
as negativity and despair purges itself

I lift my head and see her face, see her eyes
the love, the unity I feel for her
causes my high to intensify

I know this drug would be so much less to me
if I was alone, not blowing lines with her
this high would be so much less without her love

there's something 'bout jazz music, fills the eye
with thoughts of woodwinds brass and smoky dives
where clubs and streets meet moonlight in the sky

the music notes, arpeggio, they fly
with drinks around, the smoky mood arrives
there's something 'bout jazz music, fills the eye

the New York nightlife entertains the eye
past midnight, sewer smoke floats up alive
where clubs and streets meet moonlight in the sky

with Songs From the Night Before, Sanborn is high
and carries all, along with him they jive
there's something 'bout jazz music, fills the eye

the room is dark but for a stage so nigh
spotlight exposes New York's heartbeat live
where clubs and streets meet moonlight in the sky

where jazz songs live forever, never die
the spirit of New York at night it thrives
there's something 'bout jazz music, fills the eye
where clubs and streets meet moonlight in the sky

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos