From the recording Threadbare Songs
Church Street Station was the heart of the entertainment district in downtown Orlando where I grew up.millions of people flocked there to visit hotspots like Rosie O’Gradys, Apple Annie’s, and the Cheyenne Saloon. Last time I was there, everything was gone. It was like a ghost town. Things change over time.
My “Threadbare Song” this week is about friendships that go the way of Church Street Station. It doesn’t make the friendships worthless, it just means things change. I wrote this song as a reflection last night and scratched out a quick recording.
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Polished brass railings, spit-shiny and new
And glass windows beam with bright colors and hues
There’s intricate woodwork surrounding the bar
The crowded room fills up with big movie stars
Dixieland trumpeters and booming bass drums
Can-can girls dance in the hot summer sun
Bartender pours endless, cold, nickel beers
Rosie O’Grady’s will always be here
[Chorus 1]
The Good-Time Jazz plays on deep into the night
We dance in the streets, full of joy and delight
This is the heart of our city, for sure
With magical rhythm and song, its allure
[Verse 2]
Twenty years later, went back when I heard
Drinks were still, cold but cost more than they’re worth
The dixieland trumpeter was taking a break
The old stained-glass windows were showing their age
The place felt familiar, but the music had changed
No more Cheyenne Saloon, no more Church Street Exchange
The brass rail was tarnished; the barstools worn thin
The band had moved on, and the silence stepped in
[Chorus 2]
There’s no good-time jazz playing into the night
We don’t dance in the streets; we’re too differently wired
This was the heart of our city, for sure
But the music is gone, and the rhythm’s no more
[Verse 3]
The “Open” sign flickered, a desperate red
To a room full of ghosts and the words we once said
I looked for you, knowing you wouldn’t be there
Just echoes of music and old, empty chairs
It’s not that our friendship got old or went bad
It’s just that we used up the time that we had
So I left a tip on the old wooden bar
For the people we were and the people we are