The blues tarveller clears his throat,
tips his hat, which is made of the skin of many
salutes the dusk
bows to the sun
Then he warms and weeps his strings
and cooks it with a slow burn

Thousands have travelled and stopped at 
this crossroad
danced with the devil
and sang
"Lawd, If I feel like this in the morning
I knows I gotta get away from here!"
They make the deal
sign in blood
and close the door

Again, he tips his hat
salutes the dusk
bows to the sun
Still, he warms and weeps his strings