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