Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
     I heard a ***** play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
     He did a lazy sway . . .
     He did a lazy sway . . .
To the tune o' those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
     O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
     Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man's soul.
     O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that ***** sing, that old piano moan--
     "Ain't got nobody in all this world,
       Ain't got nobody but ma self.
       I's gwine to quit ma frownin'
       And put ma troubles on the shelf."

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more--
     "I got the Weary Blues
       And I can't be satisfied.
       Got the Weary Blues
       And can't be satisfied--
       I ain't happy no mo'
       And I wish that I had died."
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.

That Justice is a blind goddess
Is a thing to which we black are wise:
Her bandage hides two festering sores
That once perhaps were eyes.

I didn't speak
But she heard me
I was never opened
but she listened very carefully
to what my heart cannot explain
That's how we fell in love

She dreams to run away
Where no past exist
Where she could rebuild herself
Away from this cruel world

She dreams to explore the new her
The pure innocent girl
Who doesn't know what it means to be hurt or broken

She is a daydreaming girl

She grew forests inside her bones
So memories wouldn't find her