The horns blow With the passion and despair of a generation. Piano Man plays Brushing the ivory keys with the fairy dust of the Blues Pouring the magic potion of jazz into every note. The record player skips, Dancing to the beat and melancholy melody of that woman named Ella. Pausing in between the stomping feet and tinkling of Shot glasses. Whiffs of Brandy and Scotch mingle in the rafter, squeezing between the Dangling feet of customers, Feet donned with mismatched socks and church shoes with hole in sole.
Spirits fill the joint with spirit.
Juke joint, Synonymous with relaxation. They are here Shakin and shimmyin off all worries and cares At least for one night. And they will dance into the wee hours of the morning. They will sing with the lady of the night. And they will live the carefree life they long for.