Ain't it %s world gone wrong,
We searching by the corner door,
With good-for-nothing filling every heart,
And in my grave.
The corner door winds whisper low,
As sing the blues we roam,
Through sweet release we go,
Far from our childhood home.
Each good ol' blues shares a story,
Of lonesome heart and more,
The graveyard holds their glory,
Now and forevermore.
Through poor condition we find our way,
By bleak new year we stand,
Though pain in my heart may stray,
We join heart to heart and hand.
...