Texas Blues is music, ending with a period
You can’t go read out of a book, and be superior
Nothing you go take a bite out of, and eat it
It’s something that is just there, like real legit

Playing sets, from seven to eleven
Crowds roll in, think their in heaven
Start with some slow riffs, like your first lesson
Then unwind my weapon, to close out the session

It’s something you grew up with, just there
I don’t know if it’s the dirt, water or the air
But hope to god, it’s a bit of all of them, hey son
By the way, I’m moving to the coast, to see what’s going on

Playing sets, from seven to eleven
Crowds roll in, think their in heaven
Start with some slow riffs, like your first lesson
Then unwind my weapon, to close out the session

King Albert Collins, either deny or release the freeman
Hell! He ain’t forgot what he knew, for any reason
Freed de king, over and over and over
Texas Blues is a feeling moreover

Playing sets, from seven to eleven
Crowds roll in, think their in heaven
Start with some slow riffs, like your first lesson
Then unwind my weapon, to close out the session

Something, I’m glad I know a little about
But not as much as I should, no doubt
Into both winter rain and summer shine
The two journeys of hope and land of Crime.

Born with prejudice, throw it all about  
By extracting color within the blues  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue, were made to be taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.  
  
Tired of racism, going on and about    
By liberating, we strike new tunes  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue, were made to be taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.  
 
All of society, from near to far about  
To all city slickers, outback folks or hippie communes  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue, were made to be taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.

I walk ‘n’ talk like a citizen, but feel like an American Alien.
I’m Canadian born, brought up by a Philadelphian.

Falling asleep at 3 AM, rising after noon
Instant fame and riches, happening way to soon.

Always being told to keep my head down;
On the road from town to town.
Pleasing the crowds, appeasing my manager.

Sometimes I think, I’m just riding shotgun.
If I ever broke my melody making,
crab claw pickin’ fingers
I’d be out on the street,
              ^^^
like all my other,
              ^^^
unfortunate *******.

Workin’ as a young one, during da cotton pickin’ days.
Tuning my ears into, da older siblings gospel ways.
Smokin’ a whole lotta dope, got me to here.
Drinking from early mornings on, got me to there.
Playing some slow guitar chords, gave me the blues.
Sleeping at night, always awakening, to more bad news.

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.

I got a kind hearted women, no imitation
Who will not let me be, until one dies
As she pulled up to the cotton plantation
I looked at her, straight in the eyes
Spoke to her, with her full attention
I’m outta here, anything else, I forgot to mention?

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.

Isn’t it at all, a bit sort of creepy.
Returning home, to da back swamps of Mississippi
The last song I had ever written.
Would be the death of me, once bitten
Now ain’t that a bit haunting.
I should’ve just read, the dire warning.

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.

I know that’s my country girl  
Discovered like an oyster, oh what a pearl
And she is naturally kinda dope
One day I will marry her, I hope
My mama always said
Don’t wait, for rebound ones, instead
But, by playing the field is fun, I guess
Dealing with so many, without any progress  
Will lose the thoughts, the heart once desired
Before you know it, still single and almost retired
So, pull your finger out, get up the guts
Ask her out, check her out, no buts.

Is life controlled by the media that encourages communism?
Or should we just paint one’s life, with a brush of surrealism?
Who is right, who is wrong?
How can one truly mime, life’s unfinished poetic song
Making up as we go, our very own crude sort of rules
To experience one’s life, by kicking ***, like stubborn mules
Thinking that only thee and not we, are so very cool
Picking what we think is the best and only chosen tool
One day though, we will all be left so far behind
When, we realise, that one’s life should’ve been more kind
We say, only if we could’ve stopped, to seek and find
To see there’s only one way for all of mankind
That is to close one’s envious mind, as if we were blind.

Take the color out, from even the darkest of cotton blues.          
Then you’d enjoy it, without any innate bias or clues.          
From the railroad vagrant, without any degree;          
To purring cool cats, with a PhD.        
Hell! Go back to where you were born, your inner roots.    
All da way back, when you’d let dirt, get on those anti-racist boots.          
We listened when it pricked our ear, then the color of blue was swept away.
Then, just black and white, made us jive to the music, on that very special day.