I think I'm getting jazzed out, from too much jazz coming in. I'm slim sleazed and jazz fizzed, jazzy tizzy ruck rhumba and a side of salt. I am rip roaring, free falling, tipping over, and it's all my fault. I took the job at the jazz club, thinking it'd be some extra cash and now all I hear is tipped over sea shells.
Yet the ocean, is so beautiful, all of its waves. Its underwater caves. Its caverns and its dancing froth.
How can I miss it, how can it be gone? You can never lose what belongs to you - paraphrasing a song by Abby Lincoln.
The memories of songs is all I have now. It's almost like the music is gone, even when it's happening right in front of you, jazz music seems to be the art of making music feel like a memory.
At least that is how it seems to me.