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CLICHE TOWN Torch Singer Blues
by David Ian
02/27/06
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Cliche Town ~ Torch Singer Blues

(c) 2006


Torch Singer, Torch Singer
Songs dressed in ivory
Sultry tones drowning
In gin

Your dress is scarlet
The color of passion
But your eyes are singing
The blues

You gaze into space
To some far away place
Somewhere, anywhere
Thatís not here

Youíre searching for a Johnny
To take you away
And youíre holding auditions
Each night

Youíre not looking
For a white picket fence
Or a scrapbook of memories
And sunsets

Just a man with no strings
And hands that are magic
With nothing hidden under
His sleeves

Who doesnít quit easily
Or take No for an answer
But gauges your space
And your time

Who reads you like a book
Beside the bedside
So he knows all your wants
And your needs

Where a slap to the face
Means ďCome back here next time
If you really meant
What you said.Ē

Heís got what it takes
To fan the dead coals
And flash your life
Into flames

But through the dim haze
Of the smoke filtered lights
Itís the same faire you see
Every night

And here I sit
With my alto baby
Playing softly through
Her reeded lips

Aní moviní my fingers
Down her gentle curves
Aní making her moan
In the dark

Yeah I got what it takes
And I got what ya need
Iím not the kind who needs
To rehearse

But Iím not your guy
Though youíre not certain why
And you never could
Put it to words

So the night closes in
With its shadowy bars
And you sing like a canary
Thatís caged

And the last set is done
And the stage fades to black
And you fade with the lights
As they dim

So I pack up my honey
Aní Iím takiní her home
I know when a gigís
Run its course

Aní the next dirty town
With another smokey room
Awaits with the rising
Full moon

At the city limits
Where the stars kiss the sky
I hear you knocking
At my empty room.

Yeah itís the end of the line
For what was never to be
I just canít stay and baby
Youíll never leave.


By David Ian & Dani Baldwin

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Member Comments
Member Date
Honey Stone 27 Feb 2006
Well done. If the blind could see. The wrong kind of high. Such a false high. So few find that tingly clean feeling of being in His presence. That's the saddest of all.




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