Usless Blues

useless, useless blues.
the chain sounds off against the metal pole.
the insects struggle out of the morning dew drenching.
still wet trials on the concrete.
my mind stops as i watch the spring evening disapper.
no interruptions and the thunder nulls.
the twin hawks hunt down, up for the rats still jumping.
hard hearted old mechanic, like the father farmer, hey jack.
this is the forest of diego.
i crack myself up. it's the double bladed axe.
orange trees and plums. grapefruit still tumbles.
the bushes move like ballerinas in the wind.
i long to dig my feet deep into the ocean sand.
on the shoreline of santa monica beach.
the spot where i sung my heart out at 3 a.m.
and the tired couple clapped at my sorrow.
i had my hair down. and despite the chill i was warmed by the light of god.
tranquil and determined mind.
i can memorize all my life, yet i choose to forget the most important things.
i blame it on the strings. but we both know i'm a lier.
thats the label you gave me, because i had a kink in my neck from always looking up. an you loved to paste those on all the different types of noodles in the pantry, and well, anyway whats better than looking up than to lye on your back.
us liers are lazy. dreamers are not the only ones.
but us fireman make pyromaniacs out of clouds. flames in the water. it's smoke reflecting on my scars from 1930. i tell you i was dirty.
silly folks with black tongues, speaking the bricka brack. la la!
boo boo!!
oh i see i'm a downtown primordial prince of pain.
pimp-like with my sunset over the shoulder, and cheap rooms.
he wakes up with nightmares and day stares him down. back down into downtown.
every city is same. her lips are like rose colored pillows. eyes search for the fingers equipped for digging into bread. flipping through bread and handing her the bread to buy more mens whistles. to bake more mens bread.
women used to stop walking forward at me when i'm crowned with a golden halo.
they know. they knew. i'm a whiskey romantic. all i can offer is the greatest lover, still young. when the angels cum. drooling happily like lucifer.
i'm not the beast who lives east of gommorah, i'm halo'd 'member?
i've never lost a dark haired woman to knife or force. or even a blonde for that matter. i'm more dead than you. don't worry. i'd be all wrapped up in you.
thats why they call it the blues.
thats why they call it the blues.