Well, I’m tired.
Gears are sticking –
need some grease
for the wheel.
But I ain’t got none,
and I ain’t got no one
knows how that feels.
Except rye whiskey
And, why, it’s risky
but it slows
the whole
thing
down
’til the grinding,
I am finding,
eases with
every round.
Well, they’re hustling and
they’re bustling
as far as the eye can see.
Ain’t anybody
got these lonesome blues,
anyone but me?
Ain’t anyone but me?
No, no, no, no?
Watching the people.
Watch ’em walking
all over town –
(walk walk walk walk walk walk)
some on their way up,
some on their way down.
But I can’t reach a-one of ’em.
Seems they’re living in
a distant menagerie.
Ain’t anybody
got these lonesome blues,
anyone but me?
Ain’t anybody
got these lonesome blues,
anyone but me?
Ain’t anyone but me?
No, no, no, no.
Well, they’re hustling and
they’re bustling
as far as the eye can see.
Ain’t anybody
got these lonesome blues,
anyone but me?
Ain’t anybody
got the blues,
anyone but me?
Ain’t anyone but me.
© 2019.