Mr. Big Time Blues took at seat
As always, to the left of the bar
Sat real tall, never looked around
Nodded his head, double bourbon neat
Dusty old fella, but sharp and calm
Everyone made their assumptions;
Killer hit man, wall street tycoon,
Ex-marine, business owner of steel,
depending on the viewers,
it was always some different assumption
He would sit there round after round
Sitting taller after drink after drink
Getting up here and there
Dime in the jukebox in the corner
Went back to his seat, and nodded
He would sit and soak in the music
He would take in all the eyes
And I knew he would go back home
and continue his novel,
Mr. Big time Blues was a writer
With a six gun in his trousers
and a mind full of the blues and whiskey