The bluest morning ever
broke today
forego the nighttime
find the moon
in the afternoon
cry
all day
one is forgiven
much too soon
Another year has come
and gone my way
my blood is thicker
showing signs
of pathology
fast on the track
to decay
remorse as company
here to stay
I need you
I lost you
What a shame
The smoky faces lost
in this café
their lips forever chat
a grey uniformity
cry
all day
amazing lethargy
here to stay
I need you
I lost you
What a shame
no sunrise
no coffee
What a shame
No seaside
no poets, no backbeat
no lover, no mother
no mainline, no downtime
What a shame
If today I follow death
Go down its trackless wastes
Salt my tongue on hardened tears
For my precious dear time’s waste
Race
Along that promised cave in a headlong
Deadlong
Haste
Will you
Have
The
Grace
To mourn for
Me?
Will you
Have
The
Grace
To mourn for
Me?
The thrill is gone
The thrill is gone
I can see it in your eyes
I can hear it in your sighs
Feel your touch and realize
The thrill is gone
The nights are cold
For love is old
Love was grand when love was new
Birds were singin’, skies were blue
Now it don’t appeal to you..
The thrill is gone
This is the end
So why pretend
And let it linger on?
The thrill is gone
This is the end
So why pretend
And let it linger on?
The thrill is gone
“Here is something definite, something
real. Thus, waking from a
midnight dream of horror, one hastily
turns on the light and lies
quiescent, worshiping the chest of
drawers, worshiping solidity,
worshiping reality, worshiping the im-
personal world which is a proof of some
existence other than ours. That is what
one wants to be sure of …. Wood is a
pleasant thing to think about.”
“The Mark on the Wall”
Virginia Woolf
I’ve got a brain that’s black and blue
a waking state that feels like slumber
can’t find guitars that scream like you
a raw desire that pulls me under
This is too rich for my blood
Inside the cold of small success
the chilling glare of younger failure
a stranger turns away the rest
and finds in me a well-worn savior
This is too rich for my blood
A heart that’s torn, a sun still shines
a broken man finds strength to labor
a memory that’s past it’s prime
will burn my frozen nights forever
This is too rich for my blood
I’ve got a brain that’s black and blue
a waking state that feels like slumber
can’t find guitars that scream like you
a raw desire that pulls me under
This is too rich for my blood
Inside the cold of small success
the chilling glare of younger failure
a stranger turns away the rest
and finds in me a well-worn savior
This is too rich for my blood
A heart that’s torn, a sun still shines
a broken man finds strength to labor
a memory that’s past it’s prime
will burn my frozen nights forever
This is too rich for my blood
Another sleepy, dusty Delta day
I was out choppin’ cotton
And my brother was balin’ hayAt dinner time we stopped
Walked back to the house to eat
Mama hollered out the back door
“Y’all remember to wipe your feet”Then she said, “I got some news
This mornin’ from Choctaw Ridge”
“Today Billy Joe Mac Allister
Jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge”Papa said to Mama as he passed
Around the black eyed peas
“Well, Billy Joe never had a lick of sense
Pass the biscuits, please””There’s five more acres
In the lower forty I’ve got to plow”
Mama said it was shame
About Billy Joe, anyhow
Seems like nothin’ ever comes
To no good up on Choctaw Ridge
And now Billy Joe Mac Allister’s
Jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge
“Child, what’s happened to your appetite?
I’ve been cookin’ all mornin’
And you haven’t touched a single bite””That nice young preacher
Brother Taylor, dropped by today
Said he’d be pleased to have a dinner
On Sunday, oh, by the way””He said he saw a girl that looked a lot
Like you up on Choctaw Ridge”
“And she and Billy Joe were throwing
Somethin’ off the Tallahatchie Bridge”Well, a year has come ‘n’ gone
Since we heard the news about Billy Joe
Brother married Becky Thompson
Bought a store in TupeloThere was a virus going ’round
Papa caught it and he died last Spring
Now Mama doesn’t seem
To wanna do much of anything
And me, I spend a lot of time
Pickin’ flowers up on Choctaw Ridge
And drop them into the muddy water
Off the Tallahatchie Bridge
I’ve got a brain that’s black and blue
A waking state that feels like slumber
Can’t find guitars that scream like you
A raw desire that pulls me under
This is too rich for my blood
Inside the cold of small success
The chilling glare of younger failure
A stranger turns away the rest
And finds in me a well-worn savior
This is too rich for my blood
A heart that’s torn, a sun still shines
A broken man finds strength to labor
A memory that’s past it’s prime
Will burn my frozen nights forever
This is too rich for my blood
