Play it again, Sam
For old time’s sake

For when the last muse is gone
The only music left
Must belong to another

Like souls of rag tag armies
That chime their red and yellow bells
From the churches of Casimir
Late into the winter
And still later into spring

Like the snow falls like a white leopard
And sends the partisans to leap
Form their deep shadows
Along Clinton Street

We watch again as the last plane
To Lisbon is gone
Only the cars of Kaisertown
Are left for the snow
They plough their way to midnight mass
Like lost ships in the night

Yes, our democracy was built
On a thousand cartons of cigarettes
We still owe to the Blue Parrot
Yes, our decorum was designed
By a thousand trenchcoats
We wore through a thousand nights
Drinking black market vodka
In the now broken down Brewski’s
Where we might make our last stand
Siphoning out gas tanks
Through our mouths of the night
Praying that by morning night
We might have enough fuel to fathom
The start of a beautiful friendship

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