Pouring dark from a mason jar with treble of the bassline ink
in key of the bluesy muscatel humming to someone’s cover
as a cigarette sways a memory
and a saxaphone plays as the shadow forgets old regrets
embrasing theif of night last call stains every lip
half of hope’s been drunk
thunder slow and sticky sweet or a ghost who wont leave
dark notes linger in the air like a promise unpaid
the piano stool spins empty but the song keeps playing
the blues ain’t a feeling it’s the dust settling
as the morning suncrawls in hungover and guilty
a slow dance of bitter grapes
coughing up nickles the barkeep preaches salvation
somewhere but god ain’t listening its the music
that keeps humming bluesy muscatel
