Blood On The Tracks reimagined

Just to think that it all began on an uneventful morn …

I lived on Montague St, in a basement down the stairs. My room was bare, but early one morning the sun was shining and the light burst through a beat up shade. I pushed the window open wide and another day just drove on through.

Like a freight train …

I was living in a foreign country and was bound to cross the line. If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born. But time is an enemy, a jet plane, it moves too fast.

A little rooster’s crowing, there must be something on his mind. Well, somebody’s got to tell the tale because life is a pantomime.

I had a job in the great north woods working as a cook for a spell. All the while I was alone and I never did like it all that much. I must admit I felt a little uneasy, but I told myself I didn’t care.

My ears were ringing like empty shells, but my mind was filled with big ideas, images and distorted facts.

I muttered something underneath my breath: “What’s good is bad, what’s bad is good, one day you’ll be in the ditch, bargaining for salvation.”