Everyday Blue Sundown

Knowing what the old man meant
When he sang the blues on his own
Crying because the sun came up
And the summer swallows had flown

Meals for one to help pass time
To maintain the tears without feeling ill
Candles burn and wither in the dark
Not for romantic effect just to lessen the bill

Sleep, that soupcon of death
The coming of visions
And laboured breath
The sweating stumbling
Through memories of days
When things seemed better
Before the blues began to play