Late Night Blues Stop
Late night hunger drives you delusional, mad,
You crave where to go, along with FM blues, tad,
Depend if you consider king harps crazy, you dad,
Or the creepy feel of a drunk, passionate and creative lad,
The depth of your hunger, in your disposition - happy or sad,
If drunk with the guitar tremolo, compose poetry, not too bad,
Roll your car window down, and pay a takeaway with a currency, wad,
The food have been served warm, as you rhyme vigorously on your pad,
Your thoughts races along with the nourishment, that you’ve had,
Could be romantic or surreal, depends on the latest, fad,
You imagine the fingers playing magic, on the keypad,
As you, roam the city with no destination, all night, like a nomad,
Into a new dawn of freedom, an evolution of new life to add,
A free mind and a free heart, yet occasional encounter with a cad;
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