The Blues

He found himself waiting again.

Out at the crossroads, out on the lam.

This time not running, this time by right.

A road-side hitcher waits for headlights.

"The blues,

The blues

The blues won't bring me down."

That pick-up truck stopped.

"Where you headed, kid?"

"Back to the boardwalk coast to fix the wrong i did."

That old man would bring him just as far as he could.

His hellhound sniffing out for a trace of any good.

The hope

The hope

The hope he's chasing.

The blues

The blues

The blues he carried are dead and buried.