When a trumpeter dies (trio)
When a trumpeter dies
My fingers become mouthpieces
When I play the piano the singer depends on me
I cannot allow the trio to be a duet

When a trumpeter dies
His breath remains
To blow the talk of time
For centuries to come

When a trumpeter dies
His life of work ascends to a place in the mind
Called remembrance
Give me a swing
Was the trumpeter’s last request.