Ben Scott

July
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Manhattan

You turned that night into a bad habit.

Second floor.
Tight wooden stairs .
Long bar.
Dim lit room .
Blood in a tall glass.
The famous dead rabbit. 

Freezing winter midnight down on Broadway. 
It could turn away the Satan. 
The wind is loud yet you whisper in my ear 
I want to show you all the secrets 
Of Lower Manhattan.

And In that moment on Church Street 
I wasn't thinking of the summer.
All I needed was right next to me
My ice cold lover.

I have to taste all the secrets of The City 
Death and bitters
The sours and the rest.
Again and again.
One more please. 
They are the world's best 
On the mighty old island. 

Hold me in your hand
The blizzard in the village
Keep me by your side
And take me to the next dark place
Where we can go hide. 

So smooth, sweet and tasty
You could enter any secret door. 
Endless nights, speakeasy delights. 
Such was the magic
Of the Lower East Side. 

And ever since then I know
It's the only way to explore. 
In a freezing winter night 
That could turn away the Satan.

Thank you lover for showing me.
All the secrets of Manhattan. 
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