- descant on John Coltrane’s solo on the 1957 recording of Thelonious Monk’s “Well, You Needn’t” -
You beg for reasons as the dusk begins to burn.
Excuse me, bro…it’s just the way I yearn.
I couldn’t tell you in a thousand choruses.
I’m no Sinatra, with his fine Doloreses!
So I’ll take only one, ‘coz it’s my turn.
Exile can mean either death or a fresh new start.
Perhaps I’ll make a good poem, like Cid or Roland;
if not, a tale within a hero’s dream.
True, though, my life ‘til now’s left small basis for art.
These few odd things were either taken or stolen.
Nothing was my birthright, nothing’s my theme.
Anyway, all I need’s wrapped up in this here sack.
I’ll turn my back on nothing without turning back.
So long, then. I’ll see you out of Eden.
And don’t offer me a hand, ‘coz…well, you needn’t.
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