Echoes of Celandine (Winter Jazz)

She was the coolest chick I never knew, with hair of black and eyes of blue; like, I'd watch her as the sun set down, she held the breath of the whole damn town. Now, incarcerated, I know the shadows are fast comin' down, and I can see the strip lights growin' dim; the fact she split, I cannot get my head around, or the fact the winter nights are drawin' in. All I seem to do is smoke and dream of wine, or sit around clingin' to relics, servin' my time; I cannot shut down the thoughts rattlin' thru' my mind: those ghost dance malicious echoes of Celandine. It's not as though she much looked my way or that I could think of a single word to say to her; all I did was watch her walkin', cool as jazz, in the street; her smiles, her gigs, were never for me, yet they blew me off my feet, man. So, one day, anyhow, she just upped and moved away from town; I cannot forget, or believe, how much I missed her, how it broke me down. She never knew I existed, I guess, never gave me a first, let alone a second glance; in her world, in her eyes, losers like me don't stand a chance. I celebrated my love for her that night in a drunken shotgun roar; high on T. Bird, low on brains, I hit the local liquor store. So why now do I smoke these murderin' cigarettes and dream of lousy, bitter wine? Why do I sit like some burned-out zombie, servin' my time? And why, after all these years, am I still haunted by the ghost dance malicious echoes of Celandine. They say it's better to have loved and lost… I say, drop dead, 'cos you know nothin'.