jazz standardized

jazzA saxophone, a bass, a drum

A man who burns down ivories

They play with fire and with ease

And this is why I have to come

A Surrey With a Fringe on Top

Round Midnight when the ‘Trane arrives

With syncopation, binds our lives

With chords like braids that twist nonstop

No bird can sing like Holiday

No one could give the world the blues

No cat has paid such hard ass dues

To play the tune that Bird could play

To be born down in New Orleans

And swing up to Chicagoland

To pioneer the New York band

And redefine what music means

A smoky nightclub, dimly lit

The leader of the band swings hard11256944-vector-illustration-of-a-jazz-band

The hopping crowd is his reward

Tonight, nobody here will sit

It is the cool that makes you hot

The hardest bop, the softest touch

That flatted fifth that means so much

And ties your soul into a knot

Who knows what this song will become?

What jazz men do to melody

My jazz, like life, must be set free

And this is why I have to come.

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