This city breathes the blues
buried just under the skin
in the memory of cleaners
and slaughter
Here the gospel travels
from mouth to heart
and it offers comfort
as by-catch of the bottle
The center as a pacemaker
in an old and worn out body
is waiting for the final lines
from a song by Muddy Waters
"You ain't gonna trouble
poor me, anymore "
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
This city breathes the blues
buried just under the skin
in the memory of cleaners
and slaughter
Here the gospel travels
from mouth to heart
and it offers comfort
as by-catch of the bottle
The center as a pacemaker
in an old and worn out body
is waiting for the final lines
from a song by Muddy Waters
"You ain't gonna trouble
poor me, anymore "
