Essays, Art and Plays by Dan

Verse 1
I stand where the sidewalks echo with feet,
A lonely harp and a broken street,
Wind in my coat, dust in my hair,
But I’ve got a song hanging in the air.
Tin cup ringing like a hollow bell,
Every note got a story to tell.

Verse 2
This harmonica’s worn like the lines on my face,
Each bend of a note is a time and a place,
I’ve played for panhandlers, I’ve played for rain,
I’ve played for whiskey to soften the pain.
When I draw that breath and let it cry,
Even the city stops asking why.

Chorus
Oh hear that blues harp moan and plead,
A pocket full of sorrow is all I need,
From Delta dust to a city light,
I carry the blues through the night.
You drop a coin, you walk on through,
But the song keeps calling something in you.

Verse 3
I once had a room with a door and a key,
But the road kept whispering, “Come be free,”
Now the curb is my stage, the sky my dome,
Every corner I play feels halfway home.
And though I got nothing a banker could claim,
I got six holes burning with a holy flame.

Bridge
When the train of memory rolls through my chest,
It don’t stop long, but it won’t let me rest,
I bend those notes till they nearly break,
Like promises a man can’t take.
But in that cry, there’s something true—
A kind of freedom in feeling blue.

Final Verse / Chorus
So if you hear me where the cold winds roam,
Know I’ve turned that street into a home,
With every breath I rise and fall,
A battered king with no throne at all.
Keep your pity, let your spirit choose—
To stand and listen… to a man that plays the blues.