I blew into my saxaphone and out the horn came beauty
My brother had the time And so I called him over to hear me
He listened for awhile as i honked with merry cheer
Then when he left I blew again and it was joy to hear
Many decades later as an old man i sat down
I picked up my guitar and i didn't make a sound
All the passion you possess hold on to it tight
For when old age does come to you it may be out of sight