As the crow flies over yonder
Rusted strings beckoning their call
The wind in the weeping willow sings
Redeems those ugly sins longer

Leadbelly played the midnight special
With Roberta dead and gone

Pieces in the trees, except
For her soul which belonged to another

Devils got my woman tonight
Heads twisting and turning in my sleep

Rising flames going south of heaven
Fear bearing fruits of the womb

Boy, he could play
He could make the wood cry
He could sing and howl like that
With scripture and gospels fly

Prodigal of the rising sun
Voices carrying his wings of charm

Playing tunes whispered by fiends
That mistook his woman for some strings

Willie Brown knows the crossroads
Ages ago in the summer day haze

Watching friends like Robert trade their
Fingertips for sliding bottle licks

Hellhounds got my woman
Dealing cards from under her dress
My body whipped and beaten
With worms squirm in ****** mess

There goes the one, the man in black
Tipping his hat to me
The Morning Star approaching, asking
“Do you want to learn from me?”

The crooked tree like the arm of death
The clouds rising over the red sky
Yellow eyes lingering and staring
Weighing my soul for the perfect price

Mud covered my feet
But it hasn’t been raining

Nightmares crawling from my nails
With crows sounding like my momma

Devil strumming with my woman

Devil grinning, with a mouth like a cellar furnace

Hell wanting a piece of me
Sliding bottle licks and singing blues

Under the crossroad tree
A ghostly soul who can play
For the traveling eternity.

I know this like the Black of my Hands
because to ignorance, truth is profound
but to Experience, Truth is an *** Round
found in Leadbelly trying to run down
Freedom Ring crt. tied to a pair a shoot
or hanging
on the last rung
of this corporate splatter

Cobain checked out
He didn't want to write the hit
Smells Like Has-Been Spirit
Bleach tore my ears out
Heart Shaped Box
Became a reality
Made of pewter
Holding my guitar picks
Young said Every ******
Is Like A Setting Sun
Though no one can touch Cobain's live
In The Pines          in the pines
Leadbelly would ****** another man
In his honour.

Gone are the days of bluesy metaphors
Of rocking and rolling
Of the opening of doors
Gone are those days of Jazz and ****
Of the *** Pistols, of Johnny and Sid
And that vicious junk
Gone too the days of Healy and Cohen
Along with Hank in the backseat and the itch of morphine
Gone along  the one who loved the Alien
Martin and Cooke, Elvin and Elvis now free
Topac and Biggy and The Right to Party
I had a look and listen, I know the many I'm missing
Gone are the days of Alterative and Grunge and the Garage Band
Gone are Cobain with Leadbelly's "In the pines refrain"
Soon are gone the days of strings and horns
Taking their place are keyboard tickled by Unicorns