Baskadia

Death of a Jazzman

We danced and clapped

The euphoria he gave us made us laugh

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

In that cold winter he was our warmth.

Neither of us imagined he would leave this forest we camped

We all saw him leaving carrying his sax

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?

We watched to his fading in our sight

The season was over and nothing was right

Slowly the clouds called for a meeting

The heavens were to shower us a blessing

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

Cold as we were we followed our Jazzman

We tried to catch him but he was a whirlwind moving

We saw him picking a black rose

Whose funeral was he going to?

Why didn't he tell us anything?

We saw him dropping it; he was smiling at us

With our minds confused we kept following him

We screamed his name for him to stop

He kept moving towards the railway

What was in his mind? We asked

He stood in the middle of the railway

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

Oh no! We screamed with our eyes closed

We had seen the death of a Jazzman before our eyes

With tears we rushed where he had left his saxophone.

There was a note left behind:

The Jazzman never dies, choose another one

We looked at each other

One of us was to become the next Jazzman

We waited for the train to pass

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

He didn't die? We asked each other

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

Maybe that was the death of a Jazzman