weeping guitars
and murmured words

dark rhythms
older than the time itself

ancient questions
radiating from broken eyes

the blind man shares his wisdom
with whoever cares

sadly though not many seem
to listen nor they understand

all glasses half empty
too much cigars smoked

not enough sleep
for all the dreams you have

and you can’t stop humming
while the tears fill your eyes

that’s the way it feels
when the french blues

has touched your
heart and kissed
your soul