Between the notes I see long easy Fall nights in a blue house on King St. There a crew of string players scratched and strummed their way into my heart and gave me hope for a city. A hope long gone but it never did need my hope nor help anyway. But I know the crew of red shoes are still there, scattered but still singing, still playing and in those notes they find again that velvet comradery. Leave me in the dark dark dark. and wake me up when September ends.