Bourbon blues on the stree, loose and complete under skies all smokey blue-green i can’t forsake a dixie dead-shake so we
Danced the sidewalk clean my memory is muddy, what’s this river that i’m in? new orleans is sinking man and i don’t wanna
Swim
Colonel tom. what’s wrong? what’s going on? you can tie yourself up for a deal he said, «hey north you’re south shut you big
Mouth, you gotta do what you feel is real» ain’t got no picture postcards, ain’t got no souvenirs my baby, she don’t know me
When I’m thinking bout those years
Pale as a light bulb hanging on a wire sucking up to someone just to stoke the fire picking out the highlights of the scenery saw
A little cloud that looked a little like me