She said "It's hard for me to explain to you, the brightness of the light.
I can still remember when my life was like that
A real and painless beauty I remember as a kid
When I thought that I knew everything and in a way I did
She was a virgin then, a child in a million
With deep round hazel eyes of bazing intuition
She called me over to her side and said "Will you please listen
I wanna show you something and it's something I've just written
And I'm calling it Poetry and Jazz"
She watched her happy family turn to a broken home
Her father left with someone else, her mother on her own
Her fourteenth birthday, her mother spent in tears
She celebrated on her own, her adolescent years.
It was hell then, caught in the crossfire
Of an emotional triangle she couldn't keep together
I heard her softly as she sobbed upon my shoulder
Saying "As you are the closest thing I've got to a brother
Explain to me why is life so sad"
Sixteen was better 'cause sixteen was boys
Make-up parties alcohol and clothes
And saying to your boyfriend "Come on get out of bed
Look, its three o clock in the afternoon and my mother's coming back"
And she smiled then, her eyes filled with laughter
She didn't know if it was love, but it didn't really matter
She called me on the phone and said "Hey get this big brother
I just got rid of one boyfriend and got myself another
And listen, this one drives a Jag"
She left school and boyfriends for university
Three years of study for an art degree
Her clothes were outrageous her hair was many colours
Her work was radical and so were her ideas
She said "This is brilliant this place is heaven
On a score of one to ten, I'd give this place eleven
It kicks you up the ass and it fires you with ambition
I often used to feel as if my life was just a prison
Now I realise it isn't quite that bad"
I was invited to an exhibition a little while ago
To an art gallery in Paris where she has a studio
She looked sophisticated she was wearing a bronze tan
And she'd sold all her work for some outrageous sum
And I looked at her and I started laughing
I said look you're supposed to be an artist you're supposed to be suffering
And she just smiled back and pointed to this painting
Of a young girl around which she'd written out this poem
She'd shown me once called Poetry and Jazz
My name is Angela I am twelve years old
I've given up on working hard and doing as I'm told
I see a child psychologist who's spotted in my head
A recipe for delinquency or something just as bad
But I'll fight for my independence
I see the world in another way to my teachers and my parents
My priorities are different and my life is not as aimless
I am not disruptive and I'm not dangerous
I've rhythm and purpose like poetry and jazz
She said "It's hard for me to explain to you, the brightness of the light.
I can still remember when my life was like that
A real and painless beauty I remember as a kid
When I thought that I knew everything and in a way I did