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Memory of the Jazz Age MAG
I remember when Mr. Gatsby
Invited me to his party
I almost didn't go
But I would've missed it.
So, I put on connected my links
And fitted my tie;
Shined my loafers
And walked out the door
A butler handed me
A glass of champagne
As I went to sit at a table
And that's where the memory begins
The camaraderie in the air
As saxophone raised in volume
The wind in my hair
When I first saw you
I didn't know where it'd go
Because in the end
We never know
What happens with
The people we meet
And how they bring us
to our feet.
And help us grow
We talked for while
Couple hours, I think
And the memory ends
With a joke about sinks
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