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.
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