Whisper and Moan
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.
I walk through this alley
shrouded, dark with death.
Evil deeds will haunt me,
until my final breath.
I'm craving some whisky,
a friendly word and smile.
You can spend my money,
just stay a little while.
Whisky 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.
© Copyright 2008 Dennis Cardiff (UN: dcardiff at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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