Memphis Blues

sad, sweet.

Memphis Blues slowly roll across the south,
Enlightening, enchanting, saddening.
Muddy waters are washed clean,
Pure, by the notes given from God.
Here are the memories of the whip,
In the fields where the cotton grew,
Slashing under a hot brutal sun.

Blues are the sound of a sinner on revival day
Looking up to the beautiful heavenly host.
Useless withered bodies fall away,
Eternally young, vibrant, thankful.
Sadly we sing of the sweet chariot.