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letra de jazz on my tongue - christiano can

i’m the trash-picking
customer -ss-kissing
cook in a jazz kitchen
cooking till the br-ss section
begins their last session
fuelled by ambition
to mimic moves of a master
finger-pickers hand position
i’m out of practice
and the bands viscous
background sounds of crashing dishes
my bad, it’s me dragging britches
i hold pot tops to my ear lobes
to hear loads of those of rim shots
as i drop garlic in the pot
then relish in the embellished
sounds coming from under umbrellas
cast over the saxophonist
forecast said bad storms
would p-ss over us
listen to that b-ss overture
spoken word with a touch of
jazz on my tongue
past rehearsals crashed
where legend’s said
i could be the one
should i entertain
name drop to play the game
or listen when the bands
back on the one

coro
i was backstage or in the bas-m-nt
with a b-ss man practicing
a violin and a violet pen
were my 1st two instruments
now my pen’s way more violent
less silent, no longer violet
and still opening eyelids
sucks that i no longer play the violin

kitchen clues
cueing me to move
jazzed out in the groove
the past hours in the blues
simple kit, with a simple kick
when the cymbals h-t
the sentiments of the rhythm is
“snap to this”
i leave the kitchen
now we’re in same room
“how you feeling?”(fine)
i feel the same too
“let your hands go”
banjo’s going
dance. stress-flowing
in the spirit of the moment
sharp harmonics of the harp
start warming up the heart
parting ways with your seat
the rooms humidity removes humility
or you must have happy feet
either way we’re dancing
happily to the beat
straight hair curls
rapidly due to heat
please tell me
who’s tapping on the keys?
freddie this has me reminiscing
what a wicked ending

- christiano can

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