Wailin on the Blues
Well my guitar is wailin, solid bluesy growl,
I look up at the moon, and all I can do is howl,
bend those notes bittersweet, if blues is what you like,
my soul is deep in pain tonite, stand up closer to the mike,
pour my heart to anyone, who is listening and understands,
wish I had my friends here with me, hammerin their baby grands,
cause when you're feeling all alone, music can help you grieve,
got nothing in my pockets, got nothing up my sleeve,
but I do have this friend of mine, he's always here with me,
he helps when the times are bad, takes real good care of me,
I call my friend Lester, yes he's built by Mr. Paul,
six hot electric burning wires, just waiting for the call,
BB and all his friends, would be very very proud,
and when I hit that echo box, I'll drive right through the crowd,
don't know if things will turn out good, not sure what that means,
I could be left just standing here, me and my machines,
I'm wishing that the Oak City lady, sleeps real well tonight,
don't know if I'll still be here, when comes the first daylight,
Got a huge amount of wailing, pulling me down to the ground,
crank me up just one more notch, could be lifeless when I'm found
Gomer LePoet...