The Blues

I'm with the blues tonight, my dear. Even though I don't know exactly why they're here. It's just something that happens from time to time. They come and sit, tasting bitter than lime. They bite and rip and tear some shreds apart. And I walk for miles, forgeting I've a heart. Sometimes they just fill me with fear. But they can never make me waste a tear. I breathe hard to squash them down; I pray to God for what I've already found. I kick and cry loud to send them away. But somehow they always find a way to stay. 'Cause they are blues and I am not; and soon all will be over and we'll drop down this cloth. So I sit with them and listen to what they say; and find them to be unexpectantly gay.