I’m pulled in by muted horns and ecstatic neon
A smooth old bar patrolled by rough old men
Blue smoke and earthy piano just past the door
The brass screams, greedy for attention
The sax growls low anger
The beat pushes me deep into a chair
Crawls slow up my spine
And settles with envy at the base of my neck
I never could turn air to song
Get up says my brain, you need a new drink
But the band won’t let go
I turn to a hazy eyed patron
Hey man what club is this?
This? You’re in the Pithos, and that’s Pandora up on stage
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