#bluesman
Sunday morning silence
Like the eye inside a storm
The street was empty, vacant
This would be the brand new norm
The windows all were shuttered
The doors were closed up tight
No one in Cy's doorway
To recover from the night
The church doors were both open
A note pinned to the door
The back, open to the alley
The note, "pray" and nothing more
Giannis, door was locked up
Joe was sleeping in the back
A note said "order through the window"
The window, open just a crack
The bar was also locked tight
A note said "coffee, but no beer"
"yell through the broken window"
"Don't worry we will hear"
Broken Spines had in the window
A large note for all to see
The note said "Cooking up some chili"
"Come back here around three"
Cy came in the back way
Taped his note up on the door
"Don't worry about paying"
"Call if you need more"
The street was still in motion
It had life, but none to see
Today, and for a while
The street folk lived for free
The city closed the main roads
The street, forgotten to most folk
The old man, sat on the curbside
Looking up, he lit a smoke
People ordered up their coffee
Got themselves a bite to eat
Stood in line outside, all waiting
Social distance...now six feet
Most folks on the street now
Lived above their stores or near
The street was still in action
Strong and silent, cloaked in fear
While life was now adapting
A sound, blew by upon the air
The Bluesman, oh so gentle
Was singing, but, from where?
The alley by Gianni's
Was empty, not a sound
But, still there heard the music
With the singer not around
The music, it got louder
The wind brought it to the street
The stores opened windows,
To hear the Bluesman's vocal treat
It took some time to figure
Where the music was relayed
He was on Gianni's rooftop
He just sat up there and played
A special Sunday concert
With stops for "medicin" now and then
Brought the street folks altogether
They were one now, once again
The Bluesman sang The Beatles
He sang U2, he sang the Band
He sang all the Guthries
He sang about the land
He sang of inspiration
Of not being all alone
How we were in this together
His message simple, inspired tone
He sang songs that got you dancing
In the stores, that's what they did
All alone, but, with the Bluesman
Dancing like a little kid
Some sang, but no one heard them
They sang loud and didn't care
They were exactly like the Bluesman
Singing proudly to the air
He sang for near an hour
Folks below yelled up their praise
The Bluesman brought The street together
In the most beautiful of ways
He finished up by singing
Two songs that made this right
He sang "Imagine" by John Lennon
Then he gave them "Silent Night"
He made his way down slowly
He was older than he was
He did this for his people
He did this just because
People started singing
You could hear it all around
But, the Bluesman grabbed some chili
Found his tent, and hunkered down
Inspired, I would say so
That is just life on the street
A group of flawed, broke people
You'd be lucky should you meet
A family, but not really
They were one, but, many too
No one here is really special
They are all like me....and you.
Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 5:18 PM UTC
Gianni's hadn't opened yet
But, the bar was going strong
If you listened, in the distance
You heard the working of a song
The regulars were present
The Captain, Soldier and the kid
The bartender was cleaning
'Cause that was what she did
The sun, well, it was shining
It was a great day all around
And in the alley sat The Blues man
Sitting still upon the ground
Nothing, any different
Than most any other day
The street folk passing greetings
While the Blues man chose to play
The bell above the bar door rang
As a stranger came on in
The dust hung in a sunbeam
Falling from the old bell of tin
In back of old Gianni's
The Blues man played a Dylan tune
He slid right into Guthrie
It was a perfect afternoon
The stranger grabbed the bar's end stool
He ordered up and looked around
Then he said, "excuse me barkeep"
"Just exactly, what's that sound?"
She said it was The Blues man
He's a legend on the street
The man said, "sounds intriguing"
"He is someone I should meet"
The Captain ordered up a shot
The juke box started playing
In the corner sat an old man
Not quite sure if he was staying
The barkeep quizzed the stranger
Said "You're off the normal route"
"Most stranger get directions"
Then he pulled a card out of his suit
He said his name was Edwards
He wasn't lost, he had a plan
He'd heard about the music
Now he came to meet the man
"It says here you do A & R"
"You can sit here and can listen"
"But, The Blues man isn't gonna talk"
"You have nothing that he's missing"
The music in the bar was rock
Out in back, a bluesy lick
You could listen to the tunes inside
Or go out back, you had your pick
"Can I at least go out and see him?"
"You can but won't get far"
Then she put his card with others
She had collected in a jar
"You see those cards all in there?"
"Thirty three more just like you"
"Have come around here snffing"
"Like he's some creature in a zoo"
"See that girl there in the corner?"
The man nodded that he did
"Talk to her, she'll tell you"
"She runs the book store, she's his kid"
The Blues man played some Chapin
Let loose on Thunder Road
Took a small sip from his hip flask
It was hidden, rarely showed
The man asked for an ashtray
Was told "you cannot smoke in here"
"But, the old man in the corner..."
She said sssshhhh, and poured a beer
"The folks round here have stories"
"Some good, and some are bad"
"He's the only one that I let smoke"
"The old man's story is quite sad"
"Stick around a while, see"
"Just what makes the street click"
"There's a hundred different stories"
"Look around and take your pick"
"But, what about The Blues man?"
"I can give him things he hasn't got"
"You will learn sir, that possessions"
"Make him something he is not"
"He plays music in the alley"
"He does't know if you are there"
"He plays what his soul is feeling"
"He'll play to you, or to the air"
"Your best bet, is to sit here"
"Leave him be, don't light the fuse"
"You may set him on a tangent"
"And he just may lose his muse"
"He's a part of everybody here"
"He's a savior, and a sage"
"He's The Blues man to the street folk"
"But, he's from a different age"
"Have a beer, talk to his daughter"
"Play some darts, the beer's on me"
"My advice, I hope you'll take it"
"Is to let The Blues man be"
"Go back to where you came from"
"Tell the folks who sent you here"
"That The Blues man declined nicely"
"And then you two shared a beer"
He smiled, looked to the corner
Ordered one more, "I concur"
"while you're pouring out my lager"
"pour one more drink for her"
He went off to the corner
Introduced himself and sat
Never mentioned his profession
And that they say is that
The Blues man played some Johnson
The A & R man stayed a while
He looked back toward the barkeep
She looked back, and shared a smile
May 11, 2019
May 11, 2019 at 9:53 PM UTC
The door opened, he entered
There was a whoosh of air
The Bluesman looked bedraggled
And he grabbed himself a chair
Cy, came out, he heard the bell
Saw the Bluesman, gave a smile
He said "I see the storm is worse"
"It's gonna keep up for a while"
The Bluesman looked around the store
Saw a guitar on the wall
"She's an old one hanging over there"
He called to Cy, now down the hall
He grabbed it, rubbed the neck some
He said "she's got a lot to say"
He went back to the wooden chair
And the Bluesman, he did play
"There's lots of music in this girl"
"So many songs not sung"
He looked back at the hook behind
Where this old guitar had hung
He sang songs about Jesus
about freedom, and the moon
Amazingly for the guitars age
It wasn't out of tune
Cy went to the pawn stores back
returning with a flask
He'd brought the Bluesman medicin
The Bluesman continued with his task
"This old girls a treasure trove"
"She's just so full of words"
"Songs kept hidden for so long"
"Songs just waiting to be heard"
He played some more, the storm let up
He thanked Cy, took his leave
"An old guitar needs to be played"
"It's lost songs to be grieved"
"You know that you can play her"
"Whenever you come by"
The Bluesman turned and smiled
He held the flask given by Cy
"That old guitar is special"
"She's an old soul, just like me"
"I thank you for the offer"
"Time will tell, we'll see"
The Bluesman left the pawnshop
It was if he wasn't there
He went out back behind Gianni's
And sang his music to the air
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 3:41 PM UTC
Back behind Gianni's
There was no one to be found
The alleyway was quiet
You could not hear a sound
The frost had not yet burned off
The alleyway was wet
The deliveries had not been made
No one was moving yet
In the sky a rarity
Both sun and moon were out
But seen by just night creatures
Since no one was about
The back window to Gianni's
Opened to where Jim slept
There was garbage in the doorway
Since it had not yet been swept
The moon was getting lower
The sun just in the sky
The silence was then broken
By a blackbird flying by
The bird woke up the Bluesman
with his early morning call
And he watched the Bluesman set up
Perched up high upon a wall
The Bluesman had his guitar
Wiped some moisture off his crate
Another blackbird landed
A rat peeked out from a drain grate
The Bluesman started playing
Singing low, just barely heard
More animals were showing up
And they took in every word
His medicine beside him
In a flask, engraved "For Dad"
His voice was smooth and smoky
You could hear him, just a tad
More birds came for the concert
More rats, some squirrels too
No humans yet were moving
In the early morning dew
He sang as he was known too
To no one special, just the sky
Songs of revelation
Songs of watching people die
The small flock that had gathered
Watched The Bluesman, moved a bit
As he took sips from his medicine
Not a single song...a hit
The world was just now waking
But The Bluesman didn't care
He was doing what he always did
Singing softly to the air
Normally, the street would fill
As word would spread around
That the Bluesman was out playing
But, today...no one was found
The window to Gianni's
Let Jim lie in bed and dream
That he heard the Bluesman singing
In his room, on a sun beam
The birds all flew away at once
The was movement in behind
Life was coming to the street
Where at night the vermin dined
The Bluesman packed his kit up
Snuck away from the day light
To sleep and rest his weary bones
To venture forth again that night
The rats went to the sewers
The birds had flown away
The squirrels, they were also gone
And the street began it's day
Jim looked out his window
The alley empty, no one thee
Where while Jim thought he was dreaming
The Bluesman sang songs to the air
An early morning concert
Full of music, 'neath the sun
A concert heard by many
A concert just for one
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 4:46 PM UTC
It was a hot summer night
Nearly ninety, I'd say
When out back of Giovannis
The Bluesman sat down to play
He pulled up his crate
Took a sip from his flask
"This here's my med-cin"
"In case someone happens to ask"
He started a story
That we'd never heard
We're the folks of the street
And we followed each word
It's a tale of James Withers
A man in need of a hand
But to us on the street
He was the Sand Castle Man
The bluesman strummed gently
He didn't want the words to be lost
For this was a story
That had a hell of a cost
You see, James the sand man
Lost a life to the sea
His grandson, young James
Drowned when he was just three
Each day James went down
With his grandson in tow
They'd make castles together
Some fast and some slow
One day the pair
Were at the end of the pier
When a rogue wave hit hard
And took what James held most dear
His grandson...swept out
Lost at sea, never found
They searched for three weeks
But the poor boy was drowned
James kept a vigil
Every day on the beach
He'd look out on the water
His heart out of reach
He kept making sand castles
As he did with young James
With shells and old driftwood
And he gave them all names
He'd have non-existent armies
Fight non existent wars
In his hard packed sand castles
He carved windows and doors
There was make believe dragons
In pools by the sea
Guarding make believe princesses
Who no one could see
There were turrets and moats
And each day he'd build one
To be lost to the tide
As the days work was done
Each day a new castle
Each day a new war
But, nobody knew
What he was building them for
The tide would come in
And would sweep it away
All that hard work
Gone at the end of the day
But, each morning he'd come
Build one more for the tide
With invisible armies
To flow away for a ride
People would watch him
Make the castles of sand
With imaginary soldiers
In imaginary lands
The bluesman sang soft
Took a sip once again
From the flask on his hip
It's just medi-cin
The crowd didn't stir
We were like moths to the flame
As we heard the bluesman
finish his tale about James
I asked him one morning
If he ever would end
Building castles of sand
He said, Bluesman, my friend
I know that each castle
Will be washed out to see
And I hope that my grandson
Gets a message from me
I make each sand castle
Like we both used to do
I come back every day
And start another anew
It helps with the closure
I send my soul to the sea
And I hope that my grandson
Knows they're for him made by me
He finished and thanked us
And we went on our way
All of us changed some
From what the bluesman did play
Next time I'm out wandering
And see the castles of sand
I'll know what he's building
Now...that I understand
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
Twenty two years had passed by
She blinked, and a lifetime had passed
She started this job as a lark
She never thought it would last
Two husbands and rehab were part of this bar
The husbands...her clients all knew
But the rehab, was hers...and hers all alone
Only one in her family knew
She'd been tending bar here for 3 presidents plus
Two popes, two husbands....one queen
There were things in this bar that were secreted away
There were things just not meant to be seen
Say, 4 fights a week for 22 years
That's four thousand six hundred fights
That's more violent acts than one person should see
That's a lot of just mind numbing sights
As a tender of bar, she was part doctor as well
Serving drinks, and giving advice
She was hit on as well, and most she turned down
But some, they succeeded....some twice
They would come with their problems
spill their guts to this girl
Who they'd probably just met that night
They would tell her their problems and drink a few ales
When they left, they would be feeling all right
But, Mary...poor Mary would harbour their pain
She'd help them, but could not let things go
They'd cheer up with her talking and 1 or 2 beers
But she hurt, and would leave feeling low
There was always a someone on the tales other end
Who was home, maybe beaten or mad
But, Mary....she talked to the one who'd come out
And she always left feeling quite sad
The stories they told her, she never asked them to tell
But they came and they opened on up
And she as their hostess just listened and served
Whle they sat there, getting full in their cups
She married two men that she met in the bar
Both left wives, and poor Mary was blind
They both charmed this girl, till she was way too far gone
And she learned that love..yes, was blind
She had a young niece, that her sister had left
She was going to school here in town
If there was one person alive who could bring Mary up
Her niece Amber was the proverbial clown
After marrying twice and divorcing just once
Mary vowed not to do it again
But, she was hit on each night
in this bar Down the lane,
by a considerable number of men
Her first husband...a lout, for better want of a term
Was a drunkard, and jealous most days
But she fell for him hard, for his sad tale of woe
And her marriage lasted 91 days
He would come in each night after finishing work
And would berate her for flirting for tips
After leaving the bar, he would beat her at home
Hitting low, just above Mary's hips
Her boss saw her marks whens she was filling the fridge
He kept quiet, but he told her to call
A friend that he had, who would help Mary out
He knew her marks were not from a fall
Before Mary phoned she had incredible news
Her husband had been in a crash
Her problems were over and her bruises would heal
And it all happened ...poof...in a flash
During this time her sister ran off
Leaving Amber for Mary to raise
Though she hated her sister for leaving
Dear Amber she loved, and she helped Mary get through the days
But eight years along, with no outlet in sight
Hearing tales and of other folks pain
Mary reached out and she found comfort in
A needle and a rock of *******
for three years she spiked, shooting up every day
spending money she stole from the till
And during this time, she got married again
He seduced her when she had no self will
He knew of her problem and joined in all the same
Just a leech come along for the ride
He would help keep her secret, never telling her boss
Never letting them know she was fried.
Poor Amber found out, she walked in one June day
there was Mary with her coke and her spoon
When she looked at young Amber, she knew she must quit
And she knew that she must do it soon
Pure heartbreak she saw in that little girls eyes
She could see how she thought she would lose
Her Aunt like her mother, gone from her life
Mary knew she would now have to choose
Rehab was chosen, and her husband he left
He found out that this train had now stopped
his free ride was over, his meal ticket gone
You could say that his bubble had popped
Two years clean celebrated, at the bar with the kid
Mary got some good news from her boss
He was retiring to Texas and was selling the bar
And he would sell it to her at a loss
She was now the proud owner of a bar all her own
Three doors down from Giannis on Hope
She would run it precisely, the way she'd been taught
She would run the bar clean, free from dope
She would meet some great people,
Some nights in for a drink
And others that she wished would just leave
She would listen to stories, some good some not quite so much
And others just to hard to believe
She would make friends with some people And others she'd ban,
making sure that they left with a start
She'd befriend Harry Cooper, the World War two vet
Who would imprint his soul on her heart
And Amber...yes Amber would come down to spend time
She was fine and was going to school
She was a classical ****** in the dark of her room
And I tell you this girl was just cool
Mary brought Amber up with morals and faith
She would come when her Aunt made the call
She would rather hang out at the bar every night
Than to go with her friends to the mall
Mary made peace with the demons she had
She could leave the folks tales and go home
But, now she had Amber and a reason to live
And she would not have to do it alone
the bar's past Giannias, three doors down to the right
It's not large but she makes it make do
There's some music out back from a bluesman as well
Come on down and be one of the few
Be a regular there, join up with the crowd
It's not big but the beer's always cold
You don't have to stay long, but you'll come back again
For it's special....or so I've been told
Tell Mary I sent you, you'll get a free drink
And a free ear to hear of your tale
But, leave your ciggies outside for you can't smoke in here
You can do it outside by the pail.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
Phone calls were made, meetings were held and the new group was set to get started
There was lots to be learned and so little time for the lessons to all be imparted
The plan was immense, it was larger this time and the time was going by fast
They would all act as one, getting everything done and their goal was to not finish last
It was done every year, in the schools through the town, it was something the kids all enjoyed
But this year was tough, with all the closings and stuff and the fact there was more unemployed
Each school was set up to blitz through the town and to collect all the food that they can
But with more on the list and those who would surely be missed were the ones who set last years plan
Team leaders were picked in each group at the school, and their job was to get this all done
And to beat last years tote by at least one more pound and to make sure that it was all fun
Pep rally's were held to get the students involved and help motivate those involved
But with more needing help and less firms out to help, they had problems they had to get solved
On December the first, the kids all set out ringing bells in the malls and the stores
From there they would go with buses and trucks and collect food by knocking on doors
The school who did best bringing in the most pounds would be win a cup and awards
But to all those concerned, they had to get out and blanket the town in great hoards
People backed out from tasks all assigned, It was cold and they had too much to do
There was homework as well, and jobs on the side and alot wouldn't see the task through
But they all persevered and the food all came in, cans and boxes and crates and in bags
There was food left at school from donators unknown, just good wishes all written on tags
The goal was to raise an amount more than last and to do it in twenty two days
The total to date was behind just a bit but there was still time to make this year pay
So with one last great push the students went out and they held one last drive at the mall
If they collect one more ton, then all would be done and they could all know they answered the call
On Christmas Eve morn the principals met and they said they had all reached their goals
They shook all their hands and they stuck out their chests for they knew that they'd fulfilled their roles
The students were told at assemblies too, and the food was dropped off through the town
They had beat last years numbers by about fifty pounds even though they all thought they'd be down
So for all those they helped for the one day that month, where they had Christmas dinner and laughter
Was brought back to earth by one voice in one school, who asked "What would these families eat the day after?"
.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 11:09 AM UTC
T'was the night before Christmas, And at the back of the bar
Sat a man all alone, Lighting up a cigar
The waitress ran over and waving her hand
You can't do that here, Smoking is banned.
If you must smoke that thing, you can go to the street
And stay away from the building, by at least fifty feet
The man took a puff and with a voice like a croak
He said, "You're kidding, right miss? You're making a joke"
I'm sorry, but sir..I'm afraid that it's true
But the law is the law, and it's not only for you
That we must say **** out, please extinguish your smoke
So our place can be filled with other fine folk
For ninety two years I have walked on this earth,
I have broken no laws and you know what it's worth?
Bupkiss, no nada it's not worth a thing
Would that law still apply if I was a King?
I've been coming in here for 60 odd years
And I think I've consumed a truckload of beers
I've smoked in this corner on many a night
Now you say **** out, I don't think that's right.
I fought for this country at the end of the war
I came home with a war wound, and you know dear...what's more
I came to this bar to have drinks with my friends
Who all weren't so lucky and met terrible ends
They died on the beach, heart as big as a house
Taking on the unknown for their country, their spouse
They battled for honor, the right to be free
And they all weren't as lucky, to come home like me.
I was here in the sixities when Camelot died
I was here with my son, and we both sat and cried
It was that night in November, I remember it well
That my son said he'd joined up and was heading to hell
He had joined the marines and was all set to fight
For freedom and honor and he knew it was right
Because I'd gone before and stood with others like him
And I said just be safe, and come home son...my Jim
In the years he was gone, I came down here to think
Of why he was there and I shared smokes and drinks
With friends, all now gone from this world of distrust
Now they all lie beneath us, decomposed back to dust.
My son made it back and we came right down here
To spend time with our friends, both from far and from near.
The years passed us by and my grandson joined too
And we sat and we prayed in this bar, for we knew
He was fighting for freedom and the rights we hold dear
Like having some fun, over smokes and some beer.
He never came home from his war, don't you see
That's why we're sitting alone here, just you and me
Tonight is the night that his letter arrived
Saying "We regret to inform you...that no one survived"
So, each Christmas Eve I come back to this bar
To savor my memories and to drink from this jar
And I finish each year thinking of what now is gone,
Of my battle scarred boy and his now deceased son
Now, you come and tell me that I must go outside
To continue my smoking and so I'll abide
'cause for 92 years that I've been on this earth
I've broken no laws and you know what that's worth
Then the waitress reached back and she pulled out a match
From a box on the bar with a rusty old catch
She said Sir, I am sorry I didn't mean to offend
For this one night each year, the law I can bend
So please light one for me on this Christmas Eve Night
And Thank you from all who continue the fight.
Merry Christmas and HAPPY NEW YEAR 2019
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 6:38 AM UTC
It was time for celebration
Thanksgiving weekend was now here
A time for food and football
A time for love and prayer
In front of old Gianni's
The parade was marching by
But, way back in the alley
Someone was singing to the sky
The Blues man sat and pondered
As he sometimes chose to do
Of his songs and of his music
That really reached too few
The parade was full of bluster
High School Bands and all that stuff
While out back of Old Gianni's
The Blues man had it rough
But, he sang songs of Thanksgiving
To the Lord, and to the sky
He was praising all worlds beings
Though no body did pass by
He sang "Glory, Glory, Glory"
He sang "Allehlujah " too
Even though he sat with no one
The Blues man wasn't blue
Back door opened slowly
As the parade was winding down
People from The Street
Were slowly coming round
The Blues man didn't notice
Singing on without a break
Singing songs of praise and glory
With just the sounds that he could make
Then all at once he looked out
Saw the quickly gathered throng
He changed what he was playing
And he broke into a song
The Blues man started Christmas
Singing of a Christmas Tree
And of a long ago soft Silent Night
And the entire show was free
He didn't sing of presents
He didn't sing of our excess
He sang Christmas Hymns of long ago
When we all gave thanks for less
The Blues man had his medcin'
Drank a bit, and sang some more
Then he started slowing down
When she came out from her back door
The woman with the used book place
Stood silent, listening with this cast
Of The Street owners and people
On who life had given up so fast
She walked up to The Blues man
Through the crowd to where he was
And she started singing with him
Which made the Blues man pause
He knew he'd heard this voice before
Back when people knew his name
It was older and some shaky
But, the voice it was the same
The woman looked down at him
Gave a smile, shed a tear
Then she said "It's me dad"
"It's no dream...I am here"
The Blues man kept on playing
For two hours more or so
When the weather, not the people
Put an end to this mans show
Another past Thanksgiving
Was still playing in his mind
But, The Blues man and his daughter
Had a life they had to find
No one heard her say it
Just The Blues man, as he sang
This was the start of a new story
As bells of Thanksgiving loudly rang
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 11:14 AM UTC
Back behind Gianni's bar
The Bluesman sings his tunes
To all the local n'er do wells
And to the stars and to the moon
His voice is coarse as forty grit
His playing smooths it out
He plays upon an orange crate
Comfort is not what he's about
Bluesman, Bluesman play a song
One sung just for me
One that paints pictures in my head
A song that I can see
Buskers, lined the concourse
The street where he was not
This was just a place for tourist fare
He was where the world forgot
His tunes were sung for no one but
Himself and to the air
Out front, that was another world
Bluesman, did not live out there
A crowd has gathered slowly
More of a group, than a real crowd
They heard about the bluesman
And out front was too **** loud
In back, you heard the feelings
Felt the music, heard the strings
You experienced the atmosphere
That a good old bluesman brings
Out of the crowd of fandom
Working his way through the mass
Was a young, tousled haired boy
Everybody let him pass
He rocked in one position
He felt the music ebb and flow
He looked where the notes were airborne
He saw the music go
The bluesman sat and watched him
playing stories, telling tales
Of drunks in old Las Vegas
And of sailors fighting gales
the young boy stood and rocked some
always looking at the air
He wasn't looking at the bluesman
He didn't know that he was there
He walked up to the old man
staring out into the space
that streamed the bluesmans music
right into the young boys face
the bluesman watched intently
As the young lad touched his hand
And he held the bluesmans old guitar
He became a member of the band
The boy moved even closer
If that were possible at all
He was feeling the sweet music
He was having quite a ball
The crowd watched as the bluesman
and the boy became as one
The boy resting his head now
On the guitar, having fun
He couldn't see the bluesman
But the music, it was there
The boy was blind, autistic
He saw the notes that filled the air
The bluesman kept on playing
For that was what the bluesman did
He was playing for the starry sky
And for this wondrous little kid
His mother came and held him
She took the bluesman by the hand
She said thank you for the music
For letting him be in your band
In a voice as smooth as Bourbon
The bluesman told her that her son
Could come and feel the music
The music makes us one
Bluesman, Bluesman play a song
One that's only just for me
Bluesman, Bluesman play a song
That only I can see....
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC