Miles is speaking, can you hear him?
Constantly asking me why this lady here sings the blues,
as he continues sipping on the brew he made
especially for those bitches.
As the kiss me portrait designed by him hangs behind me,
Mr. Coltrane sorts thru my madness
as if he needs a muse for his next piece.
Taking me on a journey of life lessons,
letting my eyes witness this art in its raw form.
Visuals of the Harlem Renaissance cloud my head
like the smoke in the air, causing me to choke on the past.
Drowning me with the fire of his cigar
Realizing I am miles away from