I woke early one day after a restless night.
I watched the stars burst and fill the morning sky with light.
In my hazy daze I noticed something on my bedroom floor;
It was an envelope I don't think I had seen before.

I opened with caution, and in it did reside
A map and a note that said "join me inside".
I had nothing to do that day outside of my head,
So I decided to just follow and see where it led.

It led me to a door; I grabbed the handle and used it.
Stood before me was the physical embodiment of music.
I could barely believe my eyes; she was a sepia goddess.
Every contour was perfection yet her demeanor was modest.

Even armed with all this beauty she was in no way belittlin'.
I'd liken her body to the open riff from Little Wing.
Her eyes burned deep with the passion of a nameless chain gang,
Lips smart with the vibe of Son of a Preacher Man.

She told me that she had evolved over time.
We sat in an empty room with just a bed and some wine.
We talked for hours about the things shes seen and done but not boastin'.
We passed the zinfandel raised the glass and just toasting.

We had a meeting of minds;
She breathed a life in this old brain.
She was the milk in my Kahlua;
I was the Hartman to her Coltrane.

Showed me scars she had acquired each time a genius would depart.
Jimi Hendrix on her left hand, Johnny Cash on her heart.
Different fingers Mingus, Davis,
And her leg scarred for Elvis.

Ray Charles on her eyelids,
Jim Morrison on her pelvis.
Then she asked about me, and my musical stylings;
All the things in life I found somewhat inspiring.

I paused, the wine making me feel quite cocky;
Feeling whatever I said she would take in, and not mock me.
Said I'm a wordsmith and artist;
I'm deep like the TARDIS.

Every time I aim for something I'm gonna hit the target.
She said, 'Gangster rap?'
I said, "No, but drop the 'G'.
You might start to get a better description of me."

"'angster rap?", she said.
"If it sticks you'll regret that;
The most appalling moniker since the dawn of dan le sac."

(chorus)
She was a sepia goddess,
Yet her demeanor was modest.
Her hair was wild like the darkest deepest of forests.

Many before me had fallen
At her feet and died.
But that night we made a connection, and she let me inside. (x2)

I continue:
Some of these clothes are looking old just like my jaded character.
Who thinks I can (over her), but sometimes I act like an amateur.
This hat's an old classic in the first stage of dilapidation.
Its a fair evaluation that it's making this equation a little
Top heavy, if you know what I mean.

Cus' there's a fine line between a classic and a has been.
As I finish that sentence, I notice the sadness in her eyes.
It's moved me; left my mind wondering, "Why?"
As we laid there, she buried her head in my chest.
I wrapped my arms around her; stroked her with the sweetest caress.

I wanted to find the right line to make her sad head lift;
Wanted a chance to breathe life back into music like (red shift).
Said she'd grown sick
And tired of the same shit.
I said if there's anything in the world I can do, she should name it.

She said, "Sit in public places and quietly observe
All of the speeches mannerisms; every action and word."
When something inspires me to concentrate on that thing,
Get a pen and pad and then produce a vocal offering.

She said, "Bring the lost art of conversation back.
I'm sick to death of awkward silences and all that crap.
It's time to talk to one another share your thoughts and facts.
Learn the more of it you give, the more you get right back."

I looked her in the eyes and said I'd do what I could.
Then she held my head and kissed me but not like a lover would.
But then, it also wasn't like a close friend or relative.
Instead of exciting it was calming, like a spiritual sedative.

And then we laid there until I woke in an empty room.
If I couldn't still smell her skin, I'd be inclined to assume
That I'd dreamt the whole thing but I knew that I hadn't.
And I'd seen the perfect balance of beauty and talent.

After a moment of reflection, I rose to my feet,
Opened the door with squinted eyes, and stepped back into the street.
I kind of staggered home and got out a pen as she'd said.
I wrote down my inspiration, and here's what it read:

(chorus) (x2)