It was a long while ago
When I first got into jazz
I had me a horn like Louie
And got a mute to sound like Davis
Got into that idea of freeform
Freeform makes those solos
It’s all about that sound
That rhythm, that pace
Carries an emotion, a passion
Tells a story
I’d play some solos
But never got into that freeform
Too stuck on safe notes
Repeat those beats
Repeat those beats
Little bit of flavor
Repeat those beats
And there it was
A solo, but no freeform
I liked that idea of freeform
Of letting the moment take you
Would practice it on other things
Never on that horn
Too little time
When I had it
I forgot how to play
So I left it
Dropped it
Gone in some other home
A home I can’t call my own
My home ain’t my own
Too many squares, too much red
That home with my horn ain’t my horn
That home ain’t no home to me
There’s a house with my family there
But it ain’t a home
Home isn’t a conversation to the wall
It isn’t a place where you drown noise with noise
Where you’re too south in the North
Or too right for the left
You’ll think I’m a hick
But I ain’t one, no sir
Just compared to my current points
I’m more south and to the right
Geography in case you’re confused
I certainly feel for you there
Don’t know what my life is
Don’t know what it’ll be
Worries about future, fame, fortune
Sad, silly, shallow maybe
I think, wonder, ponder as I saunter
About it all as well as love
Love, passion, sex
They’re delicate desires
Dealing with them ain’t easy
I think of these and all confused I’ll be
Bemused with blues I go right to booze
And with that booze I got what I desired
Delicate as the moment may be
No names to speak of but one was sweet
Taken by the moment we kissed
That kiss was something hot
Fiery, intense, out of this world
But she was taken, as I was in the moment
Not just of the booze
Not just of the passion
I mean it more literal
I was just a hiccup
What a funny Valentine, no?
No, it wasn’t
Nor that nor any were
Only wrote one love poem in my life
It was the dumbest thing
All I felt was the sting
Of how dumb it was
That thing
That sting
It comes along each day
Cuz I see others with their Valentine
No gal to be a close pal
No pal to be a close gal
Zip, zilch, nada
Truth is I haven’t been searching too hard
So it ain’t that sad
Still can try when I have the time
But you know what I do try?
I try for “close” friends
Try to get close as I can
Not to do anything with sex
Just talk and hang
To ping them one day
And then they ping me another
Mutual respect
Mutual connection
Mutual
I don’t got mutuals
Close acquaintances at best
Each effort in vain
A strain on the horn
Trying to hit a high note
So high
But they fail miserably
Sound so sour in that vain effort
That’s what I hear
Got a lot of sins in me
Lust, pride, greed, gluttony, wrath and sloth
But envy, man, that’s the killer
I try to be nice despite my sin
Even though just pulls me out
Sicks those other sins out
Biting everyone else
And then all I can talk to is the wall
Some people just don’t give me a chance
So then I end up doing the same
That’s where it leads
That’s where I am
Got no home still
Got no horn neither
Got not much but what’s in here
In my heart
In my mind
It’s all I got to say
That right there is my freeform
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