Line For Lyons

1964 – Gerry Mulligan

Listen to them play our song
How they shock my poor brain with that electric refrain
I hear a buzzin’, just like a dozen doorbells

Everytime I hear our song
I get weak in the knees my heart pumps up a breeze
Sending a stream to every extremity

Parts of my anatomy are not controlled by me
The music’s magic spell
Leaves me a mess of quivering jelly

Even on a violin
How those sweet dulcet tones pull marrow out of my bones
I must confess, it leaves me a mess, our song

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