Blue Springs Blues

By Stone Bryson

It was a crisp autumn evening, in 1988,

I picked up my new girlfriend and we went out on a date,

she really loved the oldies and she wanted to get down,

so I took her to a club in that Missouri town.

We walked into the building and the place was wall to wall,

the smell of sweat and passion was like Gomorrah’s final call,

we found ourselves a table and we ordered our first round,

and listened to the DJ play rockabilly sound.

Then she begged me to the dance-floor, but I needed courage first,

I threw back a shot of Jose, just to satisfy my thirst,

two more got me smiling, and the fourth was heavenly,

the fifth and sixth took me where I needed to be.

The music was really popping - Jerry Lee was playing loud,

we were tearing up the dance-floor when a face moved through the crowd,

my girlfriend froze where she was - her face went snowy white,

she said, “that is my ex-boyfriend - he’s looking for a fight.”

I turned around to look at him and I understood her fear,

that motherfucker looked nine feet tall - his anger was quite clear,

we went back to our table and pretended not to see,

that asshole coming toward us - his eyes bore in on me.

He towered over both of us, then much to my surprise,

he tried to kiss my girlfriend, right before my very eyes,

with Jose as my sidekick, I stood up to face him down,

he struck me in the jaw and knocked me to the ground.

I charged at him once again - we were scrapping through the bar,

tables, chairs, and bottles went crashing near and far,

a posse of angry bouncers stepped in to end the fight,

they dragged us to the doors and out into the night.

I gathered up my bearings, and prepared for my next move,

when I saw him drop to one knee and reach just above his shoe,

he pulled a gun he had stashed in a holster ankle-high,

he drew on bead on me and said, ‘you’re gonna die.’

I slithered like a snake, just to misdirect his aim,

I was able to get on him, before he shot his game,

we struggled for the pistol, like it was our final stand,

when we fell to the ground the gun was in my hand.

I stood up very quickly, and he charged me once again,

I shot him in the stomach and then stood proudly over him,

his eyes were filled with shock and fear - as if to ask me ‘why?’

I couldn’t help but laugh… as I watched him die.

Turned out that prissy asshole, was born to wealth and power,

his daddy was a big-wig, and he owned an ivory tower,

the Chief was up for re-election and was scared of wealthy men,

so he put me in the cuffs, despite my self-defense.

It seemed the judge owed his office to the wealthy man as well,

the trial was filled with bullshit, as they condemned my soul to hell,

even my new girlfriend testified against my claim,

for she was terrified her fate would be the same.

It did not take them long to strap me in this chair,

my heart is full of hatred, as the gas fills up the air,

it will be a few more moments, ‘til they finally put me down,

I wish I’d never gone to that Missouri town.

Copyright © 2006 Stone Bryson.  All Rights Reserved.

Written January 2006

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