Author’s Note: An update for your eyes.

-Marlow

Been livin under the soft glow of Savannah lights and its boutique hotels
And, away from old streetlamps dwells a southern mademoiselle
Well, it takes victims to the river where it casts its spell
And, under the empire moonlight it sings a song so well
If you’ll be its lovin kitten, it’ll be your lovin lamb
And you can walk together down in this marshland
Down in empire land

Well, you’ll make all the hot spots — your money’ll flow like wine
And then that up town bourbon whiskey will fog your mind
And you won’t remember church bells or the money you put down
On the cast iron fence and house on the good side of downtown
Oh, but boy do you remember the strain of its refrain
And the nights you spent together, and the way it whispered your name
If you’ll be its lovin kitten, it’ll be your lovin lamb
And you can walk together down in this marshland
Down in empire land

Well, it’s been year or so since your money and health went away
— guess them blues players sure could play
It always liked to sing along — it was always handy with a song
Then one night in the lobby of some small boutique hotel
Chanced to meet a bartender who said he knew it well
And as he handed me a drink he began to hum a song
And me and the boys there at the bar began to sing along
If you’ll be its lovin kitten, it’ll be your lovin lamb
And you can walk together down in this marshland
Down in empire land

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There was a time in Georgia I didn’t feel just right
I had coughs, huffn and puffn at night
Now things got worse, I was in a serious bind
At times like this it takes docs with such style one cannot often find
Doctors of the heart, lungs and mind
If I wanna live in this country with its boogie beat, need some docs to meet
Not liken the sounds of my shufflin feet nor my heartbeat
I wanna feel real nice, so I asked the lung and heart doctors’ advice
Empire’s just a small county place but patients come
From St Mary’s to Hilton Head from many miles around
Brunswick to Darien
In beat-up old cars n’ screamin machines
To meet these docs of heart n lungs, each got his very own thing
Two degrees in heart be-bops, a PHD in breathin swings
One’s the master of heart rhythms other is a breathin king
If I wanna live in this country these docs are the ones to meet
Since I like this place country and its boogie beat they’re the ones to meet (they’re the docs to meet)
If I . . . if I wanna
If I wanna feel real nice, gotta ask the lung and heart docs’ advice

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Well I’m waitin for something to take place
Something to take away my bad heart n lung race
Get me back bar to bar, place to place
No more runnin around in the mud in the shoes of a clown
And that desperate, no count, desperado
A thief of my night life love, my business’s the street
Not liken this shakin me down
This damn old deperado
Florida’s nice, but Georgia’s oh so sweet
Stole me away with my darlin W, whose lovin just can’t be beat
So it seems that my world keeps on turnin but so what
I don’t doubt it, it just keeps me n her on the move
She’s a dream, and that’s all that I asked for
So well now, I’m wonderin just how I’m gonna tell it to you
Not gonna skin it back (not skin it back)

Somethin real, need somethin to feel
Maybe these docs can find me a drug that’ll take on this mess
It’s my rock and roll hours, early graves without flowers
Please, please, docs, put my mind at rest
I’m beggin, please, docs, put my body back at its best
So, I’m back with that the world that keeps on turnin
Don’t doubt it, it just keeps on the move
It’s been a dream, and that’s all that I askin’ you for
So I’m gonna tell it to you
Not gonna skin it back (not skin it back)
Not gonna skin it back (not skin it back)
Not gonna skin it back (not skin it back)
Not gonna skin it back (not skin it back)

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Like Dixie Fried Chicken, these are songs to live — and die — for? Yup.

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