Act One
John T. Wurzer
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Welcome to the Devil's nightclub act one An eerie tapestry hung on the wall Dark reds greens and purples blended together In a mysterious howl of perplexing intoxication I started to lose myself in its black charm The museum was getting quiet And I thought I heard someone announce that it was closing in five minutes I tried to leave but I could not move My feet felt as if they were immersed in a drying section of concrete sidewalk I stood there with my hands on my hips and I was sucked into the woven threads I found myself walking slowly down a back street In the French Quarter on a hot August night I could hear the revelry from a few streets over Echoing through the alleys but here it was quiet I had my hands in my pockets and was kicking an empty beer can down the street I glanced up at a third story window where a candle was burning And incense was wafting through the screen Shadows were moving inside Other candles flickered from across the room I heard a crash and the sounds of bits of broken glass hitting a hardwood floor I kicked the can again A slight gust of wind blew over my head And the candles were no longer burning when I glanced back up at the window The street seemed even quieter now I took my hands out of my pockets and I lit a cigarette I opened the back door of a room that was vibrating With the sensual sounds of subdued jazz It was a dimly lit bar filled with cigarette and cigar smoke I think that I was the only white person there I ordered a shot of tequila I found a table in the corner and started scribbling some notes on a napkin It was getting pretty late probably two or three in the morning When I smelled the strong scent of exotic perfume I looked up from my twelfth napkin And saw a beautiful young dark skinned woman sitting across the table from me He'll be here any minute She said with a nervous shiver of anticipation Who? I asked somewhat intrigued But at the same time annoyed that she had interrupted my thoughts You know him She responded almost breathless It's Saturday night and he almost always stops here on Saturday night I was about to pursue this a bit further When for the first time since I had walked in the door the music stopped The heavy man at the piano took his cigarette out of his mouth Poured a shot of whisky down his throat And leaned over until his lips were touching the microphone The entire club fell silent You could have heard a cockroach crawling across a sponge But even the cockroaches had become motionless And then in a low raspy voice the man at the piano muttered He's here A short skinny bearded man in a white robe came out of the men's room Grabbed a small acoustic guitar from behind the bar And stepped up onto the stage The tall thin sax player slid a small beat up chair across the stage towards him He sat down with the guitar planted in his lap Still there was not a sound Who is this guy? I thought And why isn't anyone applauding? The bar manager set a single microphone in the middle of the stage And then the little man began to play Slow jazz at first So quiet and soft that I was amazed I could even hear it Every note every chord was clear and magical The music began to build and become more complex It grew louder and he started swaying in his chair His head started to bob and I could see sweat flying from his hairy face The band started to fill in the background and when he started to sing The entire bar leapt to its feet and began screaming and applauding By the time the song finished all hell was breaking loose And the woman across the table from me had tears streaming down her face I made my way over to the bar and asked the bartender for another shot He looked at me kind of funny and said The bar's closed man The bar is closed Quiet he's gonna play another one As suddenly as the place had erupted into mayhem it became silent again The man on the stage played a slow ballad And when he got to the refrain the whole crowd started singing along I looked at the bartender and screamed Everybody seems to know this one He snapped back at me No man this is a new one Shut up and sing The band kept playing Everyone was singing I had to find out who this guy was I made my way up to the stage and found the chair empty He had already left but they were finishing the song anyway By the time the song ended people were kissing each other Hugging each other crying on each other's shoulders It was the strangest sight I'd ever seen I was standing by the jukebox I watching the club empty out When somebody tapped me on the shoulder and said Hey man it's closing time We've got to clear the room I turned around and found myself looking Straight into the chest of a seven foot tall security guard He said come on man the museum is closed It's time to go home He walked me to the front door and he locked it as I left On the steps of the museum a frail young afro american woman Who sat there in tears holding her face in her hands Pieces of broken glass were embedded in her feet I sat down next to her and offered her a cigarette As she wiped the tears off of her face and stared at the moon I noticed that she smelled incredibly familiar She looked over at me and muttered Thanks I took her hand in mine and whispered Don't worry He's coming He'll be here It's Saturday night He almost always stops here on Saturday night Last call
Struggling with Act One? Become a better singer in 30 days with these videos!
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"Act One Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 11 May 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/11064142/John+T.+Wurzer/Act+One>.
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