The buzz from the bat's wing
Flying Overhead
Leads but to the darkness
Of your empty bed.
As triggermen and thieves
Reach deadlier ground,
The man with the washtub
Is making no sound.

And don't look back to the
Place where you came.
It's just a lighthouse
And all stays the same.
So bring me your entrées
Of hookers and wives
Who laugh in the alley
With crochet hook knives.
Their lives all mistaken
For worry less times,
While we sit and wonder
With desolate minds.

So sing me a tune that
Is catchy and new,
With all the hallmarks
Of American Blues.
And don't try to hide
Behind one of your smiles.
Just come around and
Say that you'll stay for a while.