Film Noir

The melody is haunting me Black and white, an old TV A darkened room, the smoke perfume insults the sense of right and wrong Elbows rest upon a bar Heads are bent, to hide the scars and troubled souls have found a throne Some will find a well known home in a shot-glass of a song A clarinet has cried the blues A secret lies with deep regret Who cares that no one gives a rip? It's just enough to face the night Another place to roll the dice And once again, when tears have dried they'll leave this place without a face to walk away without a trace leaving me to wonder who has left me in this darkened room alone Written while listening to Billie Holiday