DEATH OF A JAZZMAN

For many days we sang around that fire he made us.

Neither of us imagined he would leave this forest we camped

As he kept moving we felt he packed our peace of mind

From a far we could hear sounds of a train moving 

Our Jazzman was heading to the train station

But why? Didn't we give him the fun, laughter and joy?

The season was over and nothing was right

But how was this a blessing with our Jazzman leaving?

For the first time there was none to make us fire

With our ship sinking all of us were coming up for air

We tried to catch him but he was a whirlwind moving

We saw him dropping it; he was smiling at us

With our minds confused we kept following him

A train was coming but he stood right there as a statue

We had seen the death of a Jazzman before our eyes

With tears we rushed where he had left his saxophone.

The Jazzman never dies, choose another one

We saw our Jazzman alive waving at us on the other side

It was a farewell, he wasn't going to return

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