Faces in the Jazzamatazz

What do they mean, "The faces in the night looking into the antique mirror of jazz?"
By what insistent instinct do we crowd the smoking dark
And watch with our seashell ears the pounding truth
Break against the huge inchoate spirit of this biggest of the little cities?
And why do the stars of this spirit’s music shine with such intensity
Upon the double-zero of our blinking eyes?
The questions multiply the mystery

Are we the face of get away from it all?
Have another drink, baby
Live it up
Let's have a ball
Before the Great Big All goes up in fire and brimstone
Make mine a double and short on the soda
Clap hands in the reeling darkness and play lusty animal with the "Yeah," "Yeah," "Yeah!"
Of drowning night
You should have seen me when I stood on the table
And the bouncer came with his tuxedo
And the alcoholic air rocking with rolls of laughter after
While the ghosts of Dixieland gone white
Are crashing through the changes inside the saints go marching in
One for the road
And hiccup home to hangover

Are we this face?
Are we the face of "Get there!" "Get there!" "Get there!"
Who's at the Blue Note?
Who's at the Sutherland?
Somebody's opening at the London House!
Grab a cab and seize upon the tock, ticking, ticky-tock
Should I wear the mink?
Somebody said something is happening at the Cloister Inn
And the long lines form in front of the revolving door of the spinning "Now," "Now," Now!"
Do I look alright?
Keep the change
I (?) in downbeat
And the smoke rises above the hubbub
As the cash register LPs come alive
Mr. and Mrs. Face face up to an evening on the town
Twelve conventioneers
Accompanied by a driving rat-tat-tat-tat
Become disciples of punchline pornography
And expense accounts rise in the falling jazz
And a waiter's feet hurt
Something ends
And the applause begins
This clapping reward is bridge for the blues
Aren't you glad you came?
Aren'tcha?

Are we this face?
Are we the face of I wonder as I wander?
Looking with the look that little children have
For that loving... something
For that joyous... whatever it is
For that delightful... I don't know what next
Tired of playing run-sheepy-run and follow-the-leader
The game we're looking for is looking for us!
And it's called one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten
Green light!
A great, big, huge, unbelievably infinite go sign!
For this biggest of the little sleep-walking cities
Where the dream we dream is just around imagine nightmare's corner
Come on along to renaissance
Which is anywhere you want it
Hope swings eternal
And that's where everything is in Jazzamatazz, Chicago
Don Quixote rides across the sprawl of us in a crazy movie called The Midwesterner
Gallops across the jumping night where everyone waits to see where the real action is!
And we strike our matches against old Chicago midnight
Against old anywhere's midnight
Somewhere below the non-stop jet
From New York to Hollywood

Hi, stranger
Are we this face?
All these faces, and more, and more, we are
And the truth is right in front of us
When our backs are turned
So, pick up your trumpets and play this!
Doomsday boys and girls of dust
Come blow your horn for Mr. Must!
Full circles roll in spirals down
Into the fright of the thinnest town