We all sing the blues now and again
King David sang them often
complaining to a God who seemed not to hear
yes Him who created the ear seemed deaf

We all sing the blues
Jesu sang the blues
Poets sing the blues
We all sing the blues

now and again

Such a cloudless summer day
In the city.

Ice cream weather girls
Caught me winking back;  

Always looking for a smile
To kiss.

The blind old man is out of his cage again
His straightjacket crumpled on the floor
He's on his knees screaming
Boney, grout shaped knees
His voice, mewling, coarse

From the stains on the wall
Once freshly painted
Bloodied, broken knuckles
Tattooed their harsh sounds
Spraying gnarled fingers
And twirls, to landscape
Unpleasant worlds

His chains, now unlocked
Not smashed, shattered but worn
The jacket was removed from
Boney, sticking beaten shoulders
Sticking wrinkled, age born

A moment between breaths
He screams once again
Crying out for wonder
The words unsaid
If there was a window
Not just a door
Would that he be fed?

The door's hung open
Freedom, from his punishment
Complain about injustice
But slaved to blown out knees
Taunting shadows bleed

I might have pity, but no
A small broken man, created
But he's not blind, self denied
Just to scared; open your eyes
Look and see, the way is clear
It's all in your head, stupid fool
The war is over, history's written

Leave over your opinions about right
The victim's plight, not my time
Nor even yours, stupid lies
Go live your horrid life
Nothing from me

I have my own, beautiful life
Injustices of the past play no part
I'm not concerned with history's specifics
And neither are you, not really
You only want for yourself
Looking for handouts
Whining about fair

My hands are worn, torn
A lifetime's hard work
My back is tired
My knees are sore
I come home tired everyday

I don't care about what you think
I'll protect what's mine
Not give it away
For the sake of the dead
Not either for those that just sigh

It's not about you, it's about my house
My family and our home
You ask for stuff and take from them
You say it's fair, but not to me
Not my children or my gorgeous wife
I've worked my life,
Not you for me

So stuff your share
What you think is fair
Indian heritage and broken knee
It wasn't me, it wasn't mine
I'll not share your burden

If you want tears, then cry
You want more than you have
You can do as I
Work real hard
From dawn and after dark
Get what you make
Not ask for mine

Write with me a thing of beauty
For everyone to see
To gaze upon our very souls
Together, you and me
Words that dance upon the heart
Like a feather on the skin
Feelings painted honestly
In hues from deep within
Write with me a thing so lovely
That everyone will know
The purest of emotions
In two hearts at once betrothed

The drifter and the comely young women who gleamed with charisma walk passed the rabble-rousers on their way to tie the knot

The rabble-rousers cheer, tossing out superlatives, praising their oncoming matrimony
The young woman is chomping at the bit to finally settle down
The drifter is on the same boat, he can't keep living the life of a rolling stone
He's gonna give the married life a whirl

She has her dress in a brown paper bag and he has on the shiniest cuff links this side of the Pacific

Some say they just portrayed a happy couple
But behind closed doors they had hidden intentions
But I'd wager that they truly loved each other  
But my my opinion is superfluous, they know in their hearts what they're doing is right
So they got that going for them

They make their way to the ****** who is set to marry the two
Until they are ambushed by pinheads with the gift of gab and know it all's who know nothing  but still try to talk out of their ***** even though their heads are already wedged tightly up them already

Egregious questions and tauntings of habitual bullshitters
What was God thinking during their creation?
Good thing the worst of them all has been tarred and feather and ran out of town on a rail, or so I've been told

They finally reach their destination and say their vows right off their cuffs
Say I do, kiss with just me in attendance
And leave all these sheep all these irritants behind
And embark on their new life together

My love is kept, and I have nailed
Her face to mine in a box of sleep,
A chamber for lost chances, subtle
Visitations, concrete emanations,
Somnambulistic signs and mercies
Elation, we walk through meadows
Of the mending sun, sweetly chaste,
Ever deep into the wandering shift,
That tearing time and moon allows,
Real as dream, to the lands of night.