no more is he there
to correct my memories
to tell me where the commas go
or try to educate me further
...
At the top of the hill,
where few ever go,
time never changed the pond.
The clear waters swell
...
I remember the forgotten ones
alone beneath the stars
on a frosty Mississippi morning
...
Nearly midnight, and the thunder calls,
and echoes from the sky on sturdy walls.
Soon sleep will come, and with it gentle rain,
...
now I wish that I could catch
a miracle
some things deny a solid proof
...
before the dawn
a moonless night
there is no star in sight
...
the wishing well of time is deep
lean far to find the soul of tears
the silver blackness hiding there
...
the river will carry you
bend you to its will
fight the river
...
what is the spirit
each man must divine it
we try to analyze it
...
I got the blues, I got the blues
no one to travel on with me
I got the blues, I got the blues
...