Greeting the Ambassadors

I can't hear a word you're saying
over the tired blues
and yet I wish
this song would never end
oh, the lovely hushed
brushing of your lips

first names will take a week
not long enough,
                             not nearly

let's shark through the pipe-smoke and chatter,
find our dark corner,
                                  begin the ritual again

I can't hear a word
so just play on, fathers
and let your song never end
oh, play for the lovely,
hushed,
brushing of her lips,
                                  so close to my ear