docsineado

The Jazzmann

It was already late

When I heard

From the back of the bar

The song of a guitar



He was seated at the corner of the bar

Scratching on his guitar

His mind on the stars

His look fixed on a picture



He was fed up with the life

Fed up with all this melanckoly

He had been popular

And was,he was been forgotten



In the morning, he was found dead

At the bottom of the old Port



It was an old jazzman

Whose only companion

Was his beautiful guitar