painted old blue walls...
filled with blues
the tears that rolled out of his heart
slow beautiful melodies
with majestic butterflies
the soul weak spirited
that drift in darkness
beer and a jukebox
in a bar with drunk sorrows
as the record stops
reality hits
allow me to let your mind drift...
I am that melody
a shackled Nightingale caged
with a room filled with smoke and sage...
eyes peered fingers poked
and sinister grins
In a painted
deteriorated
shackled blue wall
filled with blues
whose tears are
slow beautiful melodies
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