Jazz Torn

by Tim Young

Jazz torn born from

The womb of a saxophone

In the smoky black room

Back room through a tangle

Of beads, seeds potions

Shot down like shots

Lungs bursting in the alleyways

Trying to keep with the beat

Big sticks falling hard on drums

Walking proud loud

Nobody ever says nothing about

Shutting it down


Morning is night when the time

Is right  the moon don't know

Which way to turn

The sun is asleep

And nobody keeps watch

While the rest of the stars

 play in the twilight and burn


Someone was saying how long is the song

How long does this song intend to go on

Because the song is long and never  complete

 so no way was this tune ever gonna peak

 before another dawn had the chance to

 sit down and  eat

With the night who would soon be gone


In my dreams I still see his fingers moving

Like fireflies across them buttons on the horn

The riff repeats with the syncopated beat

Long after the drums have made their retreat

the piano perfect black and white

Croons like my baby in the jazz blast heat


Saxophone you shine like the sun

Perfect in your golden glare

Flaring at the end

Where all the notes bend

You call my name

Put my lame voice to shame

But lord knows how I love you

All the same.