It's almost midnight and year 1927 is beginning... People are celebrating outside, but I'm sitting in Wong Fu's whorehouse, playing piano in opium smoke that is so thick you can cut it with a knife. Black keys and white keys, they are running between my eyes... I have been playing this Hongkong Blues for hours. Those gangsters may shoot me anytime, but I don't care. I was in love with my butterfly and they took her away from me. I'm sure I will never see San Francisco again... I just remember those afternoons in butterfly's bedroom, when we made love like it's our last day on earth... I need more whisky...I can still see the photo of butterfly I have on my piano. If I see that, I haven't drink enough... |
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