The memory of things gone is important to a jazz musician. Things like old folks singing in the moonlight in the back yard on a hot night or something said long ago.

You've got to be good or as bad as the devil.

It's getting almost so bad a colored man hasn't got any country.

Making money ain't nothing exciting to me. You might be able to buy a little better booze than the wino on the corner. But you get sick just like the next cat and when you die you're just as graveyard dead as he is.

You got to love to be able to play

And I think to myself what a wonderful world. Oh, yeah.

You blows who you is.