High is the waxing, melting moon,
Sad the smoked filled blues in the room,
Through screaming hot tears,
Softly I beseech you my love,
Come back, to the city that was.
Before the angry screams of howling winds,
Before the salted tears filled our home,
Remember nights afloat on sultry breezes,
Drugged with the scent of gardenias,
Come back to our love that was.
High is the cold, silver moon,
Cries of the sax fill the smokey room,
While my heart softly sings these blues,
Return to to the city, to me, my love,
Come back, rebuild the city that was.