maybe I’m weaving up a legend
about you,
one to ring your head-bell
maybe you be like Robert Johnson
down Dockery
crossroads come midnight
makin’ bargain with that Old Thing,
n' be greatest musician ever walk dust on this ball.
folks say Blues singer got special power,
bewitch any woman they wanted,
call up silver just shake o’ their hand.
they say
“I hear dirt round here won’t take him,
Old Thing won’t let him lie,
not til’ sun wink out forever
none left to hear
whateva' magic you still be cookin'
pluckin’, croon’in.”
who’s to say that’s a bad deal though ~
See it all, reign as a god, want for nothin’
feel spark run clear up *** to teeth
See that light come back in folks eyes
one they bare knew since being babies…
watch ‘em forget what feeling’ heavy is.
oh, an' course see-ya’-picture
on the cover
of the rolling stone
or maybe that’s just a bit o’ spice
I'm sprinkling over picture and sitter both
a little kick for times
when you tastin' ash
need somethin to warm heart on
some Spectre you can call up
come slay all stand against 'ya.
Pull you back up. Dust you off.
same one gonna
whispa' in yer’ ear,
'destiny,
comin’ right round the corner,
near as tomorrow...
you be ready now.'
Stockwell - May, 2026