Folded paper in a coat
Heavy like a wooden boat
Ink is faded on the street
Where the steel and concrete meet
Down the stairs to the basement glow
Where the heavy brass horns blow
Follow lines of a faded red
Where the ghost of the jazz is led
Steps are steep and air is cold
Stories that the walls have told
Smell of tobacco and old gin
Where the midnight songs begin
Down the stairs to the basement glow
Where the heavy brass horns blow
Follow lines of a faded red
Where the ghost of the jazz is led
Satin dresses draped in blue
Waiting for a beat that's true
Silver keys and ivory white
Cutting through the velvet night
Down the stairs to the basement glow
Where the heavy brass horns blow
Follow lines of a faded red
Where the ghost of the jazz is led
Eight-two date on the corner page
Locking music in a cage
Copper coins on a wooden tray
Watching all the light decay
The train hums a low steady chord
Cutting through the city board
One last stop on a rusted track
Before the morning brings it back
Empty glasses on the floor
Closing up the heavy door
Tracing paths with a shaking hand
Searching for a hidden land
Down the stairs to the basement glow
Where the heavy brass horns blow
Follow lines of a faded red
Where the ghost of the jazz is led
Just a map in a winter coat. Just a map.
(Hums in harmony)
