There’s a moon out tonight that gives this old town more light than I can remember
As a drunken cripple walks up a flight of stairs
Or maybe I’m just seeing things
It wouldn’t be the first time
I’m working a sweat, got too many clothes to wear
Down here everything always feels damp
And the nights aren’t any less hot than the days
There’s some kind of creature lurking in the alleyway
Yea, there’s a storm coming my way
Out on the empty streets, people’s expressions remain the same, no attention paid to each other’s names
There are no sounds on this night
None but the fiddler
Serenading himself in the honor of some wandering, whispering memory
The creature in the alley lets out a belch
Such a poor-mannered man-beast. I keep walking…

I head to the river to find some company
Once spoke to me but tonight there are no such pleasantries. That’s ok.
The mere memory serves me plenty
Seems good enough for me
They used to call this a city of mambo jazz
These days I find I’m not able to relate much to that, and there’s a street peddler standing next to me
Got no reason to be shakin his ass
Movin’ fast…

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