Miles Laroque - The Man in the Gray Felt Hat

He asked for light, then stayed a while.
His voice — always kind, always style.
He spoke of Paris, jazz, and fate,
then left the gate.

I don’t know his name, nor where he’s gone,
but some goodbyes just linger on.
He tipped his hat and disappeared —
as I had feared, not every love is built to last.
Some pass too fast.

But I still dream of where he’s at —
the man in the great felt hat.

I don’t know his name, nor where he’s gone,
but some goodbyes just linger on.
He tipped his hat and disappeared —
as I had feared.
Not every love is built to last,
some pass too fast.

But I still dream of where he’s at —
the man in the great felt hat.