Coming Home To Funny Live

I trained into Sapporo in the morning's
cold crisp upon the Twilight Express
unaware of what adventures to behold
or what this snowy city would confess
and sure enough it let me in and told
of many stories for which I should listen
and of my first evening I followed my nose
and found a place worth my time and sitting

after dinner; walking my way home
I noticed a musician armed with instrument cases
and asked him in the building's lift if to listen
to jazz here there was such a place
he told me he's playing country jams tonight
and I could come to hear him play
and so, nothing to lose I followed him there
to seventh floor bar Funny, where I would stay

Shingo-Ohno strummed out country covers
and I was poured Chivas from a house bottle
Miyuki spoke american accent English
and translated my travel stories up to this throttle
and we drank and talked and dissected music
and Shingo showed me his sole tattoo tear
one life he said that's for and all we've got
and I took it on board since it's importance I hear

Jimmy the bartender he made me laugh
and I can't say in Japan I've felt this at home yet
and I can't forget the heartfelt southern songs strummed
with Tenshin on pianica and sax in two sets
and I bet if I returned here to live I'd put my own
bottle on the shelf and become a regular ghost
having left now I recall my last drink with Jimmy
and how Funny-Live I liked the most

I've been traveling and now set agenda
to return to where my heart's left resting
I'll train again to Sapporo and lend all my sorrows
to drink and smoke and confess
that too long it's been already and too long
to come I know before to Funny I return
but for the feeling of being home and not so
late night alone till then my country soul will yearn