You sang summertime so sweet, darling Bille
Your voice rich like warm syrup
And as the sun rises, they call you Lady Day
But to me your just.. Billie
Though an angel for sure.
Your tired eyes and your worn skin,
Lips like a rose in the state you’re in.
I cannot approach you
Can’t touch you for you are holy
But sing to me won’t you, for I know I am worthy.
Songs of experience, songs of pain
The New Orleans croon, ‘neath the summer rain.
Through it all, though fear strikes us all,
In the darkest hours you are proof of heaven.
Like a wink, it flashes in the shadows of your song.