The Blue's Ain't Dead

Penniless, from the crowded stage
the yellow-eyed blues man
sets off rockets with his red guitar
as the tangled wino's huddle
over small glasses of rye
and pick at each others teeth
as the short order cooks stare
longingly at the tramps backstage
lined up to swallow tongues
while the valet stacks lines of powder
on some strangers dash
and plugs his nose
cursing the skies shouting,
"The Blues Ain't Dead!"
"The Blues Ain't Dead!"