In the heart of a bluesy night,
Where dreams and shadows collide,
Whispers ride the bourbon breeze,
On that old forsaken street.
Deep roots grow in the restless soil,
Where the rusted chains call out,
Broken tunes from a thousand hearts,
Longing for a way out.
The saxophones moan, making sweet melodies,
As the black coffee brews in the dark,
From the corners where the lost souls roam,
Yearning for that flickering spark.
Cotton storms pass with their bittersweet rains,
Washing away the dust of the past,
While the jazz soul dances through the night,
Holding each moment, hoping it lasts.
But the night doesn’t promise no easy path,
And the shadows still linger just outside,
Yet we play on through the pain and the haze,
With our hopes like a fire we can’t let slide.
So let the world spin and twist like a reel,
Each note a memory, each chord a part,
We’ll rise from the ashes, with strength and with grace,
In this symphony crafted from heart.
So raise your glass to the nights gone by,
To the stories shared under dimming lights,
We’ll chase these blues till the morning breaks,
In the echoes of our bluesy heights.
Blues
Deep roots, Cotton storm, Bourbon street, Rusty chains, Black coffee, Broken tune, Jazz soul
Blues
Deep roots, Cotton storm, Bourbon street, Rusty chains, Black coffee, Broken tune, Jazz soul