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in times of desperation
lonely paints in the box
dreaming of the clear sky
I am trapped between grays and blues

there’s a knock on the door
total strangers standing in the driveway
unbearable hums and buzzes
I am trapped between cigars and booze

my little girl doesn’t like me
she cries and stamps her feet to my seat
“and yes, 54th homicide of the year”
there’s another shooting on the news

just before you leave, you said:
I am tired, just very tired
it was the be all and end all
I just didn’t see the clues

I guess my name is mud
an inclination to shoot myself free
to have the bitter taste of your sweet soul
but the spirit of the blues, says you lose