ST . CHRISTOPHER BLUES

ST.CHISTOPHER BLUES

Visions of Saints rowing home in the sand

The placid wind screen

Six trumpets in the band

Your skin so soft lift the petals of your silk

All over your lips the taste of malted milk

The stars are burning bright

The autumn leaves are brown

The night forever hangs

I’m listening for the sound

Hustling with a woman in the alley on the ground

Shuffling to the rhythm on the dirty side of town.

I live the free life the American way

Smoke in bars on sacred holidays

Get drunk on the weekend and leave my car and walk home

Wander sleazy highways and I walk ‘em alone

I hang out in diners in Motel 6

A junkie for a bar whore make a quick fix

She smells like cigarettes and alcohol

Crawl like a sapphire dog ‘til I’m ten feet tall.

Hanging out in the pool hall hustle a few drinks

I’m high and I’m tired push indulgence to the brink

I’m Marti Eden” a poet with the blues

Getting off on desolation , religious solitude

I see every sin clear on the internet line

Someone knows your whole life

Someone else knows mine

I gotta dance honey to that September beat

Sweet sensation nipping at the heels of my feet.

There’s a river on the highway

The cheats are rowing home

On the raft of false promise sittin’ on a throne

I hear the magnolia bloom

Violent winds attack

Someone stole my sainthood

And now I want it back.

I know how he must’ve felt

St. Christopher

Tarnished as a saint

Left only with revenge.

WRITTEN BY MICHAEL UBALDINI
COPYRIGHT 'LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
- FROM THE BOOK - Michael Ubaldini-'LOST AMERICAN NIGHTS-Lyrics& Poems - Moon tide press