The blues are not my own

The blues are not my own
I borrowed them
Ok, I stole

That’s what music is,
Stealing cleverly
Cover up the parts

that everyone knows
and make them
your own

When a new music is born
It’s violent
So savage and violent

Cultures clashing
like guerilla warfare –
I love it

Don’t you?
The feedback?
The grinding?

Slow it way down
until you can’t recognize
anything from the original

No music is inherently anyone’s –
It belongs to whoever conquered it
And left their flag on top

(Bitterly) I’m only halfway up
the insufferable mountain
I dropped my sword an hour ago

Hand to hand
Fist to fist
Till I’m dead

Till we’re all dead
Conflict is as human
as the blues

That’s why I love it
That’s why I stole it
When I sing, you can’t even tell

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