One need not know the other,

A slight mocking nod will do.

Here we are all musicians,

Unity can sometimes be so true.

He is all skin and bones,

The man with his torn old hat,

Sitting under a one bulb light,

The only thing that shines, his mistress in his hands and his eyes.

It's the blues darling, the sound of our souls,

It's Jazz sugar, makes even the old ones unfold.

The taste of the trumpet on beer soaked lips,

The feel of metal strings on ink laiden skin,

Breaths that hover over the sounds of the beats,

There're all together, all the Adams and Eves.

Point a finger in the air to wet them in the waves,

Take a naked plunge into these sinful waters,

Wash away the putrid boredom of days.

And then you can hear the man singing,

Every nerve fighting to break free,

To hold on to that moment, capture it in a jar,

Opened only in dark bedrooms,

When your insides are at war,

To break into pieces, fall into peace, peace oh! Peace come; drown me.

He balances the earth besides this lady,

Her mournful voice like the whistles of the trees,

The memories of today sharpen, more than words ever read.

It is in this time that they truly lived,

If you listen to what they say, it's the story of what we all need,

We be blessed! thus minus the worlds political entourage...