troubled blues with feeling
may ease my tortured mind;
free me from the clutches
of those I left behind.
these dirty hobo rags
hang on a wasted frame,
haunted by the memory
and rhythm of your name.
walking through this alley
shrouded, dark with death.
evil deeds will haunt me,
until my final breath.
craving me some whisky,
a friendly word and smile.
you can spend my money,
just stay a little while.
booze, it clouds my thinking.
your face is just a blur……
few more drinks together
i may think you are her.
guitar strings, whining steel,
a whisper and a moan.
use me and abuse me;
don’t leave me here alone.
…
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Dennis Cardiff 