Notes from Paris - Allan Taylor, Hans-Joerg Mauksch, Barnaby Taylor

I can still hear him playing, April in Paris

Dexter’s blowing his horn

It’s a used up tune for a faded moon

And played for the memory of something that’s gone

Plays like a lover, who’s holding a dream

When he knows that the dream won’t last

He’s going down slow, but he’s scared to let go

Deep down he knows, the dreaming has passed

One hit of cocaine, one hit of horse

He’ll take what’s on offer today

It’s a losers refrain to come back again

That thin line of snow to blow you away

He says «Buy me a vin rouge, buy me a beer

As he sits in The Blue Note Cafe

He’s ending his days in a purple haze

As pink and blue neon drag night into day

And the dancers have left the floor

And the last of the late night drinkers are out of the door

The old man’s hung up his horn

He’s playing no more

It’s not for the money, it’s not for the fame

It’s for something that sings through it all

When the music rings true, your soul comes through

And that’s what you do, 'til you hear the last chord

They say we go out, the way we came in

It’s how we played it that marks out the man

If we can leave a trace of beauty and grace

Then it wasn’t for nothing, just part of the plan

And the dancers have left the floor

And the last of the late night drinkers are out of the door

The old man’s hung up his horn

He’s playing no more