To The Children And The Innocent It's

Who Can Leap The World's Ties And Sit With Me Among White Clouds?

Between Incomprehensible And Incoherent Sits The Madhouse. I Am Not In The Madhouse.

Desolation, Desolation, I Owe So Much To Desolation.

Rest And Be Kind, You Don't Have To Prove Anything

Once There Was Louis Armstrong Blowing His Beautiful Top In The Muds Of New Orleans; Before Him The Mad Musicians Who Had Paraded On Official Days And Broke Up Their Sousa Marches Into Ragtime. Then There Was Swing, And Roy Eldridge, Vigorous And Virile, Blasting The Horn For Everything It Had In Waves Of Power And Logic And Subtlety - Leaning Into It With Glittering Eyes And A Lovely Smile And Sending It Out Broadcast To Rock The Jazz World.