don’t count me out yet
I’ve been getting back into the blues. Working with them. Sleeping with them.
Sometimes they make me dance and sometimes they make me cry.
That’s the blues. Lately it has been the same way. When I look at the sky I feel like living. When I face the day I feel like dieing.
Not much different than the same old story. It’s the blues.
I look at the Milky Way and count my lucky stars. That’s where I will end up.
People that grow up beside the ocean figure they will become waves.
This living is a hard ways to go.
You have to get some dirt under your nails.
When I look at my hands. I swear they belong to my father.
I figure I’m going to take up dancing. Look for angels when I’m awake. Leave the devils buzzing as long as I can.
It shouldn’t be this hard.