Oldstyles and crying strings,
It grows on you, once the headache passes.
I carried a girl, hypothermic, piggyback down Michigan Avenue.
Buddy Guy’s polk-a-dot guitar, BB King’s Lucille, Eric Clapton’s Blacky.
A dollar fifty a bottle, it makes us warm,
It makes us warm to dance,
I notice her dress and it makes me warm.
Root, fourth, root, fifth, root, fifth, fourth, root
Chicago’s sound rings in my ears,
It’s just a Delta sound that we say is our own.
But we know better than to admit it.
Don’t let me forget the way your blue hands felt in mine.
Don’t let me forget the way the blue music sounded.
Don’t let me forget the way the blue beer tasted.
Don’t let me forget the way the blue air smelled.
Don’t let me forget the way the blue night went.
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