I tried to sing of joyous times, of sunlight and of love
But the music wasn’t there and my throat gave way
Those songs aren’t ours, they never were
So let’s run away and sing the blues
We’ll take a trip and sleep in old hotel beds and play our guitars
And we’ll sing the blues
You’ll meet women and I’ll avoid men
And we’ll buy each other beer
As we stand up on stage to tell our tale
The only people listening will be drunks with nowhere else to go
But the music will be there and my throat won’t give way
And these will be our joyous times, the sunlight of our souls, with my love for your guitar
The songs will be ours
Because all this voice is good for is the blues
Rattling and deep
We could find happiness
If we ran away to sing the blues
Friday, April 14, 2006
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