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