Went on down to New Orleans
Where good times roll in fever dreams
I was a broke-ass musician with barely a penny to my name
Hopped up on grit and a hunger for fame
Blues was my calling card and rum was my fuel
I played that saxophone so loud I must’ve looked like a fool
Jamming till the early hours on Bourbon Street
I was going to bring the whole world at my feet
Started dabbling in voudou and hanging out with the dead
They were happy to listen and didn’t care what was said
Got it in my head to work some magic
I’d be damned if my jazz career was going to be tragic
So, I summoned The Baron in a graveyard at night
With rum and tobacco in the pale moonlight
In a top hat and tuxedo he came a-running
A bone-white face with eyes of cunning
He sucked on a cigar and asked if I was afraid
I replied that I’d done scarier things trying to get laid
He laughed at that and knocked back his booze
While I blew on my sax with nothing to lose
I conjured hurricanes and storms that shook the ground
The Baron kept drinking and didn’t make a sound
When I’d finished my set he raised his cup
“Kid, stop trying so hard, you need to chin up
Jazz is that wild bar chick that can’t be tamed
But of course you go after her without any shame
It’s a paradox, a gas, a wonderful con
Keep hold of the spark or it’ll soon be gone.”
The Baron downed his rum and I did the same
Knowing life is simply a rigged game