Alabama Blues Poem by Christopher J. Grasso

The world is goina’ hurt me,
Worse than any form of dropping dead can.
The world is goina’ hurt me,
Worse than any form of dropping dead can.
So what you goina’ do man?
Fore’ that guillotine makes sure its end?

I haven’t found no way,
To catch a break now and then.
There’s gotta be another way,
I can’t believe this goina’ be my life’s trend!

The world is goina’ hurt me,
Worse than any form of dropping dead can.
The world is goina’ hurt me,
Worse than any form of dropping dead can.
So what you goina’ do man?
Fore’ that guillotine makes sure its end?

You see I can’t afford my own home,
Not even a shed to call my own.
Its all by myself, so I live so alone.
Why you think its so easy to commit sin?

The world is goina’ hurt me,
Worse than any form of dropping dead can.
The world is goina’ hurt me,
Worse than any form of dropping dead can.
So what you goina’ do man?
Fore’ that guillotine makes sure its end?

Guess I’m just goina’ get up from ground,
And play my guitar,
And hope that lady luck… ain’t too far… away!