Blind Willie's Sketchpad - Ash Wednesday, First Person Singular

The air smell cloudy, With a hint of rain. Come all this way by trustin’ In a thin white cane. If a wink is as good as a nod, What’s a brotha ta do? Should Jesus come again in glory, Wouldn’t chance to see that, too. Can’t read the street signs When I’m walkin’ home. Don’t never ask directions, Gotta make it on my own. Oh, the speck in thy neighbor’s eye… Some be never so blind. An honest man in Orleans Parish Ain’t no easy thing to find. It’s a game of countin’ footsteps When I stroll down Rue Dupre And the landmarks I rely on Ain’t the kind the eye can see. My woodstove crackle When I burn the mail. The magic wind of radio Done fill my sail. Gotta reach for the bulb to tell If the table lamp on. A moonless night and empty skyline, All the brilliant stars are gone. Sweet voice on FM Bridges time and space. You know I’d give the world If I could touch her face In a gentle and sensitive way For to know how she feel. Get to the pearl inside the oyster At the bottom of the deal. Sense desire in her fragrance, Feel the fire in her skin Taste the ocean’s salty wonder When the levee’s giving in. Don’t say no prayers for me, padre. When the lights go out, My soul can find its own way in the dark. And pretty mama, when I git ya, I'm gonna lick them ashes off.