Bules Apartmy foot, blue is my hand.
Your old man puts his cigars out in my baby grande.
In the parlor passing time, your two eyes too do watch.
We’re wondering, “Is this a club?” There’s got to be a catch.
And the space between is always colored blue.
You take your time, I take my time too.
It’s all allusion, though it seems so true.
The state of art ain’t nothing that is new
Oh blues I sigh, blues I moan.
It’s a dog eat dog food world in here.
Won’t you please throw me a bone?
In the darkest sources of my lonesome mind
I see hate and jealousy I should ‘ve left behind
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