Yesterday, I met a man who plays the blues.
Oh-oh, he plays the blues better than anyone.
His music and his words creep right under your skin, and hit smack the middle of your heart.
In just one moment, you remember all the times your heart was broken, you feel again all the emptiness you’ve felt then.
One riff on his guitar, and you remember the lonely roads you’ve been traveling, the cold beds you’ve been sleeping in, the conversations you’ve had with only yourself.
Oh-oh, baby, this man can play the blues like no other.
You remember those dark, dark nights when you thought that the sun would never shine again.
His haunting melody calls up long forgotten pictures of lonely mornings, when you wondered why, oh why, you even had to wake up, since the sun only shines for those who are happy.
You remember all the lonely meals that you didn’t even take the time to cook and that you didn’t have the heart to eat.
And, oh, you remember as if it were yesterday, how, once, you offered your love like a big bunch of roses, only to see the recipient laugh, throw it on the ground and trample it, and you would leave empty handed, ashamed, destroyed.
Oh, boy, oh, how this man can play the blues.
On and on and on, he can lead you down the sad side of the road, all the way to the bottom of your heart.
And you want to run.
You want to fight this music that takes you down-down-down…
But of course, you are alone, and lonely, and hopeless, and sad.
And the Blues-Man knows…
He looks into your eyes.
And he smiles his blue kinda smile…
Yes, a sad, sad smile…
Oh yes, he knows….
Oh, baby, oh, it’s the blues tonight….