Leaving for the week,
You're also leaving me.
Hopes to be somewhere else
you won't have to hide.

Be open to yourself.
Walking down bourbon street.
The night calls.
The Jazz, oh the music
It calls.

You picked up the phone.
The first day you were away.
We are keeping in touch
the old fashioned way.

The Jazz, it sounds again,
it leads you from your bed .
Hunger to only be pacified
by another man.

The second day I call,
later this time.
I'm drowned out by the sax,
I'm drowned out by the sex.

I swear I can hear the sex from here.
The men you'll bring in
with the hue of your eyes and
the shade of your hair.
Up on the stage while you play jazz,
it calls to them too.
Just like it called to me.
A tilt of your head
you look out to the crowd.
Your Jazz speaks to him,
he catches your gaze,
eyes screaming aloud.

I want you to stay.
But this reality I have to face,
You haven't been here for me since I've known you are gay.
The Jazz it calls you,
And so do they
I swear the same thing is always on my mind.
Last edited by Stirups at Sep 14, 2016,