San Francisco [bad word] clear and cold,
Don’t know if I’m waking or I’m dreaming.
Riding with Fats Waller on the Super Chief.
He said, “Music’s real, the rest is seeming.”

Oh, he played
Feeling that won’t go away—
Left a sound of his soul in the air.
I can hear it out there,
And I know

He left those soul shadows
On my mind, on my mind, on my mind—
He left those soul shadows
On my mind, on my mind, on my mind.

Standing by the window as the fog rolls in,
I swear I can hear a far-off music.
Jelly Roll is playing down in Storyville—
Satchmo’s wailing somewhere in Chicago.

Coltrane reaching for the notes his mind can hear;
They remain a part of all that I know.
Oh, they played
Feelings that won’t go away—
Left the sound of their souls in the air,
I can hear them out there and I know

They left those soul shadows on my mind,
On my mind, on my mind—
They left those soul shadows on my mind,
On my mind, all on my mind!