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Click herewhen the hot smokey air is filled
with the rolling tones of ivory keys
the pianoman smiles and plays on
he weaves a net to catch your ear
the mood is right to grab her hips
and dance all through the night
high-strung howling of a hungry sax
tears deep into your secret heart
mouth open in passon's velvet grip
moaning to those plaintive wails
you are lost, transfixed on the beat
bound to hungers unspoken till now
circling the room like cats on the prowl
drawn to the quiet dark secluded corner
where none can see, none but you and you
hot roving hands alive under your skirt
arched back pressed to the shadowed wall
filled deep you grind out the music of desire