Her heels scuff the floor in drunken time with the beat

And the gentleman moving side to side with her twirls her as she gives a laugh.
The trumpets are blowing balloons, the saxes are blowing their nose,
and the trombone is playing such games with the pitch that it sounds alone.
It’s crowded but lively in this establishment, and there was no window –
the growl in the singer’s voice sniffs around the place for a cranny to escape to, but no luck.

There were whispers of a blues-playing gentleman who bent so low under the weight of bad luck
that he dropped his knees to a crossroad and breathed in and suddenly learned to finger the beat.
Across the way was a shrouded wife and babe in a house with a little love – one window.
A long time ago he used to hum her tall tales and wait for her legato laugh,
but he chased the night for so long that the sun forgot to rise and left her alone.
She died in a puff, right under his nose.

Well the balloon popped, so the owner kicked the band out onto the street and turned up his nose.
The musicians squinted their eyes in the light of the sun and cursed their luck.
The sax player wiggled his fingers and asked why they couldn’t’ve kept well enough alone -
(He misunderstood – there are some rhythms that do not fit comfortably in a beat.)
But then from behind the door they heard a smoky laugh –
They saw a shape that was not a shape fill the window that was not a window.

The sax player helpfully pointed out that there was something strange in that new window
And immediately danced to avoid his bandmates’ slaps from connecting with his nose.
There was one thing funny but there was entirely the wrong sort of laugh
And so the musicians hands stopped their fighting and their heels began to feet the bite of luck.
Gentlemen, gentlemen, gentlemen, said the figure in a tritone progression from the window,
What say y’all shall we take this conversation someplace whence we you and I can be alone?

Funny – these boys are smart enough to spit improv but dumb enough to follow smoke alone.
Their feet were used to walking through doors, but when walking through this window –
Well, their toes certainly shriveled and twitched and tapped themselves into a new beat.
And they listened to smoke and eyed each other and never thought of whatever was under their
nose,
But they sniffed and sneezed and suddenly understood the cost of green luck,
And they stood stupid and cross eyed and the felt a bite yank them down to earth with a laugh.

Five years on, and a gentleman with great hands met them all down below with a laugh.
Well well weeee-lll he drawled in sticky four-four time. I see you’ve chased the blues alone.
Well was it worth it? He stretched out his hand and held theirs in a vise and laughed. The luck?
They sneezed and complained about the heavy weight of the smoke in the room with no window.
The man who used to be a husband and was almost a father looked down his nose
and taught the former musicians then vagabonds then rock stars to play the devil’s beat.

Window, nose, beat OR

beat, nose, window

Laugh, alone, luck