Long ago when old was young.. I had so much to feel.. songs I sung.. each step.. each rung.. whip harp reeds of love stung..
Band was formed old friends we stormed songs old.. some new and bright.. bypass like some horny John.. they took lines from the night..
Off to find another.. off to make my song.. took it as a schoolin’.. was no sense to foolin’.. seems some consciences were boss.. time longer than my loss..
Brad had touch of classic.. had heart for the blues.. played each note as song.. could do no wrong.. had no dues..
Bob was on the keyboards.. never strayed a lick.. private in his genius.. each hour.. each tick..
Clocks he knew better.. better than before.. old friend you done yourself proud.. music loved and so much more..
Frank S… know I heard from Tim.. just the other day.. wish I could hear your tubs… fore I pass away.. played drum head foot and thumb.. drove music true that way.. just a small move.. in our groove.. blues music what we played..
I would sing.. sometimes minstrel BJ knew my way.. knew the sound.. paid years on ground where urban creatures play..
Wonder what became of him.. times never again.. know this as you read it.. Brad always is a friend..
Spoke of oak and funny jokes.. somehow would relate.. to the blues.. the lover news.. sung tears of blood and fate..
Glory in the story?.. another who recalls.. test best then with all the rest.. true felt the only walls.. Lost mother love that falls.. another heartbreak calls..
‘sometimes.. perhaps in misfortune.. a time only felt.. when nothing molten matters.. even gold that melts.. these are words of living.. dying.. words felt deep for true.. lie to those forsaken.. if lies pass lips of you’..