San Francisco morning coming clear and cold, Don’t know if I’m waking or I’m dreaming. Riding with Fats Waller on the Super Chief. He said, “Music’s real, the rest is seeming.”
Oh, he played Feeling that won’t go away— Left a sound of his soul in the air. I can hear it out there, And I know
He left those soul shadows On my mind, on my mind, on my mind— He left those soul shadows On my mind, on my mind, on my mind.
Standing by the window as the fog rolls in, I swear I can hear a far-off music. Jelly Roll is playing down in Storyville— Satchmo’s wailing somewhere in Chicago.
Coltrane reaching for the notes his mind can hear; They remain a part of all that I know. Oh, they played Feelings that won’t go away— Left the sound of their souls in the air, I can hear them out there and I know
They left those soul shadows on my mind, On my mind, on my mind— They left those soul shadows on my mind, On my mind, all on my mind!