I’ve been busking about since young and fair
The atmosphere from onlookers, like skating on thin air
So unconventional, prior to the old smacking ways
That’s how I’d spend my entire waking days
Melodic riffs, dancing over bass lines
Harmonising daily, to some lonesome feeling ballads
Playing finger-style guitar, without any speeding **** hazards
            
Along the boardwalks of Venice Beach
In unlikely places, that you’d ever encounter or reach
A folksy blues musician, you can’t wait to hear
Independent, from a money-making machine, that’s so clear
A young black musician, singing ‘bout life’s rights and wrongs
With an aching intimacy, strings are strummed, to original songs
            
The overall effect is something like a blend
Of other musicians, with a depth and subtlety
More suited to the stage, than a street with a dead end
While the busking experience is fundamentally a freedom, luckily
Still taking a fading, battery-powered amp, with heaps of torque
Along with a flattop, down to the busy LA boardwalk
            
I think the best thing you learn from being downtown
Is how to be really optimistic, while still being on your own
Busking was like practicing with a metronome
It started pulling on a few chords, like not ever knowing a safe home    
Then, thoughts of ones life coming to an end, my tick-tock time
Then, I go back to playing a song, people tossing me, a silver dime
I imagine, how it would sound, playing along with four in a band
I’ve never really been dealt, a very good poker hand
Trying to re-create myself, like an over paid, auto tuned, music star
Well, as much as I could, with just a worn out, acoustic guitar
            
They say, I picked up the guitar at seven
At first trying to play lap style, just keepin’ it even
Because, I couldn’t reach across my scar torn body
Early childhood lessons, gave me a foundation in blues
After that, I wasn’t taught nothin’ by nobody
I just kept playing like that, what did I have to lose
I could learn by ear, until I heard the rings at the checkout
It would take a while, but I’d figure it out, what they were all talking
about.

When I fall out of love with my soul mate  
Put me six feet under, somewhere hard to locate  
For, we were only sixteen, when we both said, I do  
From that day forward, I felt that I knew  
But the days became months, then a few years  
Boredom required a change, but that ended in tears  
 
Turn me into the color blue  
But don’t leave them a clue  
Find yourself another friend  
Maybe it won’t end  
Treat them so well  
I’ll see you in hell  
 
Married for love, released a white peace dove  
Harmony and joy, never ever to be destroyed  
Let in some jealousy, might’ve got a bit paranoid  
Tapping phones, paying detectives, what have I become  
Partner found out, called me ****, totally bad outcome  
Now left me alone, won’t return calls, no longer in love  
 
Turn me into the color blue  
But don’t leave them a clue  
Find yourself another friend  
Maybe it won’t end  
Treat them so well  
I’ll see you in hell.

Some blues make you wander
And some blues make you stall
And the some that play for you
Don't do anything at all
Go see Stevie
Whenever it’s Texas Blues y’all

And if anything falls apart
And you feel like lying down
Tell 'em an ole southern claw-picker
Just made the call
Tell Stevie
When you hit the wall

When the gals on the dance boards
Step up and tell you what to do
And you've just had a kind of realisation
And your feet are shuffling slow
Go see Stevie
I think he’ll know

When body and coordination
Half fallen floppy head
And the afro waiter is singing in fear
And the queer nun is off to serve some head
Remember what the congregation said
Feel your heart
Feel your heart.