In the midnight hour, when the shadows creep,
I hear a worn-out harmonica playing secrets deep.
The world feels weary, like the road I roam,
Each note a whisper, calling me back home.
The sun dips low, painting skies in gray,
While rust collects on dreams that fade away.
My heart aches heavy, burdened by the toll,
Chasing echoes of a love that stole my soul.
These blues wrap around me, like an old, faded coat,
Every squeeze of that metal, every sigh from my throat.
I wander through the alleys of memories I know,
Searching for the light in this heart of woe.
The streetlights flicker, casting shadows long,
In this weary moment, I find my missing song.
Each breath a battle, each heartbeat raw,
But the music keeps me going, that's my saving law.
When the dawn breaks, will I still feel the rust?
In this deep sorrow, must I learn to trust?
That every note I play, every tear I shed,
Might just lead me to the love that once was said.
So I’ll keep on blowing through the night so cold,
With hope in my pocket and a story left untold,
Every rusted moment, every weary stride,
I’ll embrace the shadows, with my blues as my guide.
In the end, when the final note's been played,
I'll find my peace in the music that won't fade.
With the harmonica sighing, and the shadows grown bold,
I’ll lay down my burdens, let my heart unfold.
Blues
Rust, weary, harmonica, deep, shadows