Blues for a Blues Man

and thunder roars and the rain comes like nature's applause

at a life well lived and job well done

and the horizon frowns like spoiled child about to cry

and the air grows at first rosier and then dark

and the rain settles in for a good cry

and it is gone before your can count on it

and still thunder bombs as though there was something left to be said

until at last the weakest lightning flash heralds the very end

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Texas Toast

Killing the Kitchen God

Beautiful Enemy

Angel Fire