This syncopated place serves
As a result of His mercy,
And graceful composition.
For the position of written notes,
Wrote by the first Jazz player.
Putting harmonic improves,
That rob all logical process.
Standing less of ourselves,
And more of HE…
Thee sermonic chorus,
That ushers in the presence of His Glory.
This is the real story…
The Song For My Father…
The first jazz player,
Who’s rhythmic momentum,
Makes you want to dance.
Bombarded by just a glance of His love,
That leaps boundlessly through the valleys of death.
His very breath breathes life into useless instruments.
That now become the ensemble to carry His lyrics
He is the first Jazz Player.