Foul Blue
I'm in a foul blue mood
saving up tunes from my head,
growling in the woodshed,
a free mile of sound winging out.
When the heart has to be wild
I blow rings around things,
fly cool as a hoot in the breeze,
get out of my head, these shoes
this ole shed, fly with my horn,
and yell, why me? Up to no good.
Got to howl MY childhood, a mile
of yard bird blues run end to end.
Night owl feels inside me
plays up a sweat in the dark;
fingers run from head to toes,
my shoes soaked in morning dew.
Get up, get awful, get down.
You know the shed I played in
and the yard outside my blues.
ŠJimmy Warner Design, 2010