Miles smiles his way in on this
Saturday evening, coming to remind me
That tonight would have been the time
I’d be out searching, that elusive good
Time that could be mine here
Deep in the heart of a damp
October night in seedy old Brighton
Town that is probably still
Teeming with those undiscouragable
Visitors down from the smoke

But now I sit here with Lester blaring
From my speakers and I know
That what I need isn’t available
Not here, not in this town
Not outside this room anyway
Where I can dance, smoke and
Drink whatever I damn well like
But the walls are thin
So I can’t raise a holler in
Adoration of a time I never knew
When all the kings and queens of
Jazz would have been my royalty.