Ezekiel never had much for family, just a father drunker than hell half the time.
The preacher at the Catholic church, always found a way to make his day worth,
seeing through to the next.
A saxophone, discarded in the good will box last Christmas, even though he couldn't play much
at least this gift was real.
Playing for other kids as lost and hungry as he was gave Ezekiel something
to live for.
Hopeless nights, alley fights, all banished with one soulful note
he never was this tragic kid that we all knew.
So he might stay a while on this Earth that was given to him,
never worry again son, its better now for you.
Daddy don't like what he's hearing, someone more joyful than he is
so he lays down the law, along with a shattered bottle.
Poor Ezekiel, his hands have both been cut,
but a few hours later he's playing just fine outside alone.
Hopeless nights, alley fights, all banished with one soulful note
He never was this tragic kid that we all knew.
So he might stay a while on this Earth that was given to him,
never worry again son, its better now for you.
Oh no, he never went back to daddy again and the preacher man was out of town,
wandering here all alone, he soon sat down on a parkway bench and belted out the blues.
they said love me, they said feed me, they said give me some good news,
"Isn't God here?" "Why an I here?" why does it seem to be that no one gives a damn?
Father dearest went out that night, realizing what he'd done,
the puddled red on the floor scaring him sober
now he's caring about Ezekiel, he's frightened out of his mind over what might be.
Hopeless nights, alley fights all banished with one soulful note
he never was this tragic kid that we all knew.
So he might stay awhile on this Earth that was given to him,
never worry again son, its better now for you.
He lay there, so still and peaceful, just a pile of clothes with a son underneath,
daddy approached so slowly that time seemed to stop,
what startled him most, wasn't what was there but what was not.
Sans Saxophone Ezekiel had nothing left to hold, the cold sucking him dry,
taken by the same kids he had played for, the final fucked up irony in his life.
Daddy rushed him to the ER he waited for hours,
just to get a shake of a head,
Silence gripped him louder than any sound a man could make,
a divine ringing in his ear.
Ezekiel was gone, playing joy in a better place,
but the world is still poorer for it.
When the preacher man finally came home he found enough money and instruments to start a whole band.
Attached to a brand new saxophone, a note read,
"I'm not dead,
just play some music on an autumn night,
let everyone know there's something beautiful,
never let yourself loose sight of tomorrow,
you can wake up the sun, its sweeter than you know."
Signed, Ezekiel, Love a too late comer.
(this line means 'love, a too late comer, meaning Ezekiel's father, saying that he came to his senses and to Ezekiel's aid too late.)
There were tears in the preacher's eyes.
Lord have mercy on the soul that always wanders,
with a saxophone held to his heart, is it to late daddy?
is it too late?
Hopeless nights, alley fights, all banished with one soulful note,
he never was this tragic kid that we all knew.
So he might, stay a while, on this Earth that was given to him.
never worry again son, its better for you now.
