Underground Atlanta: Muhlenbrink's / Murph's / Playboy / Nomenclature / Junkman's Bro

Lyrics

[Intro]
Step right up, folks, mind the gap.
Down below the viaducts, below the traffic's tap-tap-tap.
We keep the gaslights burning for a show that closed its doors.
Welcome to the theater of forgotten floors.

[Verse 1]
They paved a new Atlanta right above our heads.
Left the cobblestones to dream in their riverbeds.
The year was 1980 when the music finally died.
And all the pretty players had no place left to hide.
The air got thick with silence, a damp and dusty sigh.
Just the drip from a rusty pipe and a memory walking by.

[Chorus]
So let's hear it for Muhlenbrink's, and the oompah band's last tune!
And a toast to old Murph's, beneath the artificial moon.
Give a wink to the Playboy Club, with its cotton tail and ears,
The ghost that's been adjusting its bowtie now for forty years.
Here's to Nomenclature, and the Junkman's Brother's art...
The whole damn cast is waiting for a brand new show to start.

[Verse 2]
You can almost smell the bratwurst, you can almost hear the cheers.
A whisper of a punchline, muffled by the years.
See the shadow of a feather boa on a crumbling brick wall.
Hugh Hefner's little keyhole, waiting for a call.
They locked the doors in springtime, said the party's over now.
But a good ghost never listens, never takes a final bow.

[Chorus]
So let's hear it for Muhlenbrink's, and the oompah band's last tune!
And a toast to old Murph's, beneath the artificial moon.
Give a wink to the Playboy Club, with its cotton tail and ears,
The ghost that's been adjusting its bowtie now for forty years.
Here's to Nomenclature, and the Junkman's Brother's art...
The whole damn cast is waiting for a brand new show to start.

[Bridge]
It's all still here, you know. A city in a tomb.
A perfectly preserved, and slightly mildewed, waiting room.
They just built another world on top, a ceiling for the stage.
Thought they could turn the final page.
Silly, silly people.

[Outro]
And that's our show for tonight, ladies and gents.
No refunds, no returns, no common sense.
The gaslight gives a flicker.
The trombone gives a slide.
The curtain never falls down here.
It just waits.