sing the blues, oui be, 2008
the path was dark
the path was light
the old man wakes from his dreamless sleep
resting beneath the oak that was a twig
covered with leaves
beard to his knees
he asks where he is
and where he's been
he climbs to his feet
the curses fall
across the field
his home is on the ground
with memories of his family
grown and gone
he sighs and then he turns to me
i will sing the blues
his temple lies in ruined waste
the victim of abuse and decay
his congregation has scattered away
to carry on the life he gave
many the hard words softly said
an autumn harvest of regret
as despair reaches another depth
his brown eyes search mine
and i see
i will sing the blues