Sax mute,
Sax crying
Gold!
All the world's dying,
Amber lights, purple, rose,
Breathing, 
Breathing the music goes.
Light as petals drifting the trumpet blows,
Light as breezes lifting,
Shadows so light the trumpet blows.

Slim fingers, flying feet,
And his arm around me,
And the beat and the throb of the crying brass,
Softly crying, softly dying.

And the moments pass, and it’s got to end.
So soft he dances, so strong and soft,
Like the lanterns swaying up aloft;
And I like his breathing in my hair,
And the music stops, and I care.