Women, Women

November 16, 2015
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Women will tell the folks that they are the blues,
She's a supernatural creature.
If she could, my mother would tell you,
about my father and her life with him,
A cruel, strange gentleman.
You would tell her about the choices
a black, young woman is facing.
Some man makes her fall in love?It’s the devil with a deal.
The tongue we use, in blue terms
We don't want nuance
It gets in the way,
We need to talk straight
My father gets chosen by my mother
after another man was choosing
Who was, we sung it
No account of.
My father looked good because of this man
That’s how it was, bad.
My father seemed like an island
with a stormy sea in the middle
My father looked like a rock
and you realize the blues in the moment
A stacked deck is where you exist
Your young face looking in the mirror
My sister carries the face
and its only the leverage, you know
You've got.
This creates a whisper that hurts
You going to do?
The moment is the blues
Your shoulders become shrugged
A girl without money agrees
Dust, is nothing
being pushed around by an old breeze
Compared to this
Briefly, my father seems
To escape a fire
The blues work this way
Wonders its sorry
Trouble looks like
A bed of feathers
Man makes the wrong kisses
and healing.






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