Boomer's, br The Vanguard, br The Five Spot br die dark br like a last growing spark. br New York City's br death rattle is jazz. br br My heart tears br like crepe paper streamers br listening to musicians br once this country's dreamers br becoming disbelievers br in their talent br 'cause their country br has disowned them. br br Sun rises on the clubs br lying littered and lonely. br Jazz filters out br with the sad men br only to return br like the tide every night. br America. br America! br Your music's not White.