I wish I could write Blues Songs
Because I’m empty and broken-hearted
The words just won’t come to mind
Maybe I’ve had it too good
Didn’t have to suffer enough
Always had an advantage
Because I would work hard
And then also I was white
I try to put that aside
But it just won’t drift away
You can’t pay for what you didn’t buy
Just give back to those that cry
It fills me a little
But words don’t come
Joy and sorrow —oh let me beat a drum
Find the melody I hear from a horn
Mend a heart that was needlessly torn
I know the taste, but that is not enough
Squeezing out anguish with laughter is tough
Improvisation is the magic word
I’m miles away
Even the sound is to me absurd
Maybe there are no words
Just a marching rhythm of notes
Quarter notes, half notes
Notes ‘til you can’t count anymore
The Sax you blow until that single beat
Has a way of setting all scores
I’m happy now —I’ve tried
I haven’t lied; haven’t died
Still alive and listening and looking
Stanski
August 14, 2020 ^
Steve Haarman 