About The Blues
Da Blues
Memories that haunt the Delta and the Piedmont, the tar paper shacks, the cajun camps, and the bayoues.
All the regrets and questions of "why youse".
The Grey Heron's flight. The fog rolling in at night, and that woman gone.
Da Blues
All those artists of the seventy-eights.
The blacks and the whites of the eighty-eights
The back alleys and the red lights.
The drunks and the fist fights.
Da Blues.
And still that woman is gone.
Lost in a hundred songs from the
delta to Kansas City,
the woman is cursed without pity.
Her high heel step and her red dress slit.
Her cigerette smoke and her lies,
Her unfaithfulness and the curve of her thighs.
Her drum beat heart and her guitar string moan.
The way she walked out with everything you own.
Da Blues.
