Jazz Songtext
von Andrew Huang

We need a good lyric in here
Step up to the plate
Get up, get on, get back
Zen on the mind
Seven pounds on the neckstrap
In his mouth: a horn and a winning smile
It′s been a while
Now it's every sunday
The after dinner crowd
They took the smoke out of the clubs
But the jazz is still smoking
Echoes of the notes that we don′t bring
The baritone's in the terror zone
Hot like arizone, never going there alone
Here come hits from kicks and spun sticks
Hitting the skins of that drum kit
I'm on the upright
Stuck like the tree i was cut from
But neither of us cared, we love life
It′s resin or resonance


It′s syrup or blood
It's the spark that my heart pumps
Hear it, you′re done
I'm the miracle son
Maybe without the appearance of one
Spirit of sung flames
Lyrical guns blaze
A spear of a tongue
Theatre lungs raze but stay unpraised
I′m nearly in unknown territories and charting a course
A history of standards i'm starting to torch
Light it up, light it up
Yeah, yeah
′cause i walk with with some definite hulk
Couple fingers on the neck, might be checking a pulse
Chromatic addict, not the serum but the step that i gulp
Hearing this value village vinyl, you could get it in bulk
And as the lead lines rise like a vapor of gold
I find eyes in the crowd and take hold
I'm with the belle of the ball
'cause she knows that this is real music
The geometry of the soul
Baby!