I Write Songs

You took the hand of an angry man
and calmed him with your eyes.
You wiped the blood from my trembling hands,
and made me realize

There's more to life than right and wrong
there's more to life than pain.
so I had to write just one more song
cause that memory is back again.

I remember the sound that your boots made
on those San Francisco streets,
We could hear you coming a mile away,
I'd smile when I'd hear that beat!

You took me for those midnight walks,
and sometimes I was scared,
by the mystery and the way you talked
in the moments that we shared.

Your medium was black ink
an artist through and through
It's hard for me to stop and think
of everything that was you.

You had a special love for Jim,
and you kept his autograph
I loved the way you quoted him
and I think back and laugh.

"Death makes angels of us all"
I hope the man was right.
but I had no clue, about your fall
on that San Francisco night.

You plied your trade so very well
and your arms were always clean,
I guess I didn't really know you that well
It was just a crazy dream

My black ink girl with noisy boots
had a monkey on her back.
and the visions that you'd substitute
for what the real life lacked

Donya won't you walk with me
on one more midnight stroll?
I have to respect your insincerity
but it finally took its toll.

I no longer hear those noisy boots
in the acid sidewalk air,
alone and scared and destitute
but Donya you're not there.

The years and laughs we never had
will haunt me till I die,
and that fuzzy warmth that turned out so bad
was an intravenous lie.