En.Citatepedia^®.ro

a Real life nightmare

It feels like another life
and had been at another time
and place,
where I knocked and knocked
at the locked bedroom door.

At last I found a key
and still something
was holding it
and I pushed with all my might
and at last it opened.

She was lying on the bed
with outstretched arms
and empty pill bottles
next to her head
and there was no note
to say farewell
and why she did it,
to this day
only she can tell.

She was still breathing
and I felt a weak pulse
and I was without strength
from flu,
but I picked her up
and got her over my shoulder.

The car was too far
and there was nobody
willing to help me
and I stumbled over my weak legs
and got hold of her again
and carried her to the car.

I passed over three red robots
without any car’s being there
and she belched over
my shirt and pants
and just before the state hospital
two metro police cars
started to follow me
with flashing blue lights
and screaming sirens.

I stopped at the ambulance
drop-off point
and was cursed by ambulance men
that was standing there,
and the metro police
rushed to me
took a look at her
and went on their way
and nobody wanted to help.

Anger gave me strength
and I carried her
into the hospital
and went straight through admissions
and followed the red line
to casualties
and somebody
brought a wheelchair
and some doctor
saved her life.

The doctor said that the belching
saved her,
but today I am just glad
that she’s out of my life
and that I do not have to face
another nightmare.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Attempted suicide

You were like a nuclear reactor
that was overheating
and mere heavy water
would not be enough
to cool down
your plutonium core.

Depression more than fury
had driven you past
all danger signs
and both kids
were already as if radiated,
the one by heroine
and the other past caring.

I had to brake the locked
bedroom open
where I found
rows of empty bottles
on the dressing-table
next to you.

Freed, you were unconscious
and I had to carry you
by myself to the car
while vapours
came out of your mouth
before you’re retched
right over me.

The trip was a nightmare ride,
where I skipped traffic lights
and stopped at casualties
of the state hospital,
followed by the Police.

You were less than a step
from paradise
and I had to force doctors
to immediately treat you.

When you resurfaced
you were crying
and cursed me,
for saving you
and said thanked me
and in a way
you were happy
to still be alive.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A police road block

We went to the boy’s rugby match
it was at a school in Centurion
just south of Pretoria
and he was playing really well
got provincial colours
and went to the Craven week.

We parked up on a knoll
and you wanted to stroll down it,
to where the rugby field was
and I insisted that we follow
the road round,
but you cursed me
right there between the other parents
and was determined to have your way.

You didn’t want to hear anything
and your first step
going down that hillock
was the last that you took there,
since you stumbled and broke your leg
while I grabbed you to steady you.

I carried you down that little hill
and you were in great pain
and had your arms
around my neck
and at that moment
I knew that you loved me.

I went to fetch the car
and brought it round the knoll,
put you on the back seat
of your old green Honda ballade
with a lot of care and trouble
to get you in
without hurting you
and took you straight
to Unitas hospital
that was near.

I phoned the medical aid five times
while you were being admitted
to get a confirmation from them
to stop the hospital
from claiming a deposit
and when you were settled
I went home
to fetch some clothing
and toiletries.

I drove back with my own white Polo
and just at the hospital
was stopped by the South African Police
at a roadblock.

They made me get out of the car,
patted me down like a criminal,
wanted to see my drivers license,
was determined to search the car
and went through your
underclothes and things
and asked me what I am doing
with a suitcase of woman’s clothes
in the boot?

They were very rude
and I explained that I was taking it
to you in hospital
and was determined
to see their authority
to search my car.

They had the right order there
signed by a judge
for a roadblock and a search
of any car
on that stretch of road

but the police officer to whom
it gave authority
wasn’t there
and I demanded to see him
and they wrote my name
and identity number in a book
while I told them
that they were acting illegally
before they let me go.

You were glad to see me
and browsed through the magazines
that I brought
and I visited as long as I could
and asked the sister in the office
to take special care of you,
but when I left
the police and their roadblock
was no longer there.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Screaming sirens

Can you hear the sirens screaming?
Their on their way, to try to get to her.
Here they go trying to save her life.
In they go break down the door.
What a mess before their eyes.
The police see her.
Blood evey where.
Empty pill packets on the floor.
My god what a mess.
Semi concious.
Drifiting slowly away.
In and out of conciousness.
They get her to the hospital.
But she dies on the way.

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Sirens

I hear them again.
The sirens are on their way.
In come the police.
Along with the paramedics.
Off to hospital I have to go.
They can't leave me.
Not now they've been told.
My suicide can't go on.
Becuase the sirens are screaming.
Here are the police.
Who I hate with all my might.
Saving my life.
They don't care about my strife.

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ambulance that Got Away

When Grandpa suffered a turn, we
Called the ambulance, right away,
They strapped him onto a gurney
So he couldn't sit up, or sway,
‘We'll see you up at the hospital, '
We cried, as we waved him well,
The ambulance went with bells and lights
Like a demon bound for hell!

Grandma wasn't at home, we
Had to phone her on the cell,
She couldn't come back just then, she said
She was having a fainting spell,
So we waited until he was settled in
Then drove in a convoy down,
To the hospital at Ullarook,
Just fifty miles from town.

The nurse at the desk said: ‘No-one here
By the name of Alfred Groom,
We only have private patients here,
We bed them, one to a room,
If he hasn't got private cover, then
You'll have to look elsewhere,
Maybe the ambulance took him off
To the hospital at Bulnare.'

We phoned the hospital at Bulnare:
‘He hasn't been seen round here,
There was an ambulance, come to think,
But he left with a flea in his ear!
We don't take patients from out of town
There's few enough beds for us,
He's probably over at Gundacoot,
They run their own private bus.'

We drove ten miles to Gundacoot,
An ambulance sat in the drive,
We thought, ‘Thank God, he must be here!
Let's hope that he's still alive! '
We all raced in through the sliding doors
And crowded around the Nurse:
‘Who? Alfred Groom, in a private room?
Not here! ' We left with a curse!

We split up the convoy into two,
I drove to the nearest town,
A middling place called Jerribee
With a hospital, quite run down,
‘The government cut our funding, '
Said the Nurse in the parking bay,
‘We shut down twenty beds last week,
Your Dad isn't here today.'

My son had travelled the other way
To Inkermine on the coast,
The hospital there had a hundred beds
The locals were wont to boast,
‘He's isn't here, but the ambulance
Was spotted on leaving town, '
My son had sighed on his endless ride
When he called on the mobile phone.

That night when Grandma got her breath
She went to the ambulance place,
She battered him with her umbrella
Knocking his glasses clean off his face:
‘Where did you take him, tell me now
Or I'll have to call the police!
What? Are your ears painted on! '
‘We took him to Bungaleese! '

The only place that would take him was
The Medical Clinic there,
It isn't even a hospital
And you sit on a leather chair,
When we finally got to Bungaleese
Grandpa could barely talk,
We said, ‘We'll get you an ambulance! '
‘No thanks, ' he growled, ‘I'll walk! '

29 August 2012

poem by David Lewis Paget
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The final act

Screeching screams.
Sirens blaring out.
Someone knows just what I'm trying to do.
But the pills I alreay swallowed.
It was with grate ease.

Then comes the whirlwind of a spin.
And all your head will do is spin.
You know just what you want.
You want death not life.
You just want a means to an end.

But some fall finds out.
Ambulance and police arrive.
Knocking at the door.
Bludy idiots think I'll answer the thing.
Its the final act I want my death.

They knock once more.
I hope they've gone away.
Next I no the door flys through.
In the they come.
Its not oo late.
Off to the hospital she goes.
It was to be final act
But this time it wasnt to be

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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The Last Words of My English Grandmother

There were some dirty plates
and a glass of milk
beside her on a small table
near the rank, disheveled bed--

Wrinkled and nearly blind
she lay and snored
rousing with anger in her tones
to cry for food,

Gimme something to eat--
They're starving me--
I'm all right--I won't go
to the hospital.No, no, no

Give me something to eat!
Let me take you
to the hospital, I said
and after you are well

you can do as you please.
She smiled, Yes
you do what you please first
then I can do what I please--

Oh, oh, oh! she cried
as the ambulance men lifted
her to the stretcher--
Is this what you call

making me comfortable?
By now her mind was clear--
Oh you think you're smart
you young people,

she said, but I'll tell you
you don't know anything.
Then we started.
On the way

we passed a long row
of elms. She looked at them
awhile out of
the ambulance window and said,

What are all those
fuzzy looking things out there?
Trees?Well, I'm tired
of them and rolled her head away.

poem by William Carlos Williams
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Red Ambulance

so that ambulance just went by
and if you were high
the flashing lights would be a show
red as the blood she spilled
red enough to let her go
she filled in the outlines with her nails
just as red as she
then there was a red circus, for sale
as she red as she would be
and the fire was just so
that the red blazes burned her eyes
i think it was the red that let her go
like the red from her eyes after a person cries
so red, so real, from wrist to lights
so red, everytime, even in the night
shes like the savior
or the sacrafice
her nails, or the nails of the cross?
was it it the cross on the red ambulance
with the red lights?
or was it the cross of the savior, the sacrifice
was it all red every night?
is this a remake or the living
from the wrists
on the nails
where the lights
on the ambulance
with the cross
of the savior
with the nails
on the wrists
in the ambulance
with the cross
of the savior
red from the nails
on the wrists
that lay in the ambulance
the flashing red lights
near the cross
of the savior?
the sacrifice?
in the wrists
red with nails
on the cross
of savior or the saved?
ambulance
or cross
the wrists
the nails
the lights
the ambulance
the cross
the savior
with all the red

poem by Kathryn Garner
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When I Opened The Door (List)

When I opened the door
I found:

four police cars (with flashing lights)
one police car (of which the siren was screaming)
nine policemen (at the garden gate) ,
ten of the neighbours (that were watching) ,
two dogs (that were roaring protecting)
three lightning bolts (that followed shortly after each other)
some rain pouring down (that was wetting everything)
one policeman (that was shouting)

and the reason for all of this:
you had laid a false charge.

poem by Gert Strydom
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A Ducktail Called Stan

There was a man they called Stan the ducktail,
a well build biker with very long hair,
his real name could have been Sam
or Dick or Dirk
no one really still knows
but he carried chains
and knuckle-dusters
that he used as fighting tools
(and sometimes his bare fists did the thing)
whenever a game of cards, pool, snooker
or even darts did not go straight
he took a swing

and rumour had it that he had even
knocked some cops through shop windows,
had send them straight to hospital
he was a hippie in the time
that free love and marijuana
was in some circles acceptable

and this bloke had many friends,
a gang full of them
that used to party with him
with chicks near Brakpan dam
drinking champagne, beer and cane,
or whatever liquor
they could lay their hands on

and to all the schoolboys Stan
was the man, the archetype
of what they wanted to become
what they used to call:
“a mean fighting machine, ”

and some parents did not want them
to associate with what they called
ducktail scum, even went as far
as warning the kids in the Sunday school
against Stan, hippies and ducktails in general
and to live a honest respectable life
and held a prayer meeting
where they begged God to intervene
in the life of Stan
and to this day they believe that He did

and one day just to have some fun
Stan was breaking shop windows
in the main street, waiting on the police
to come and meet him
with drawn batons and fists
and the big well build expected six
were hanging back
and a young lean cop walked right up to him,
tried to make an arrest
and the rest is history.

Stan smiled at the young man
lifted his huge right fist,
but it went right over the cop’s head
and he got one hell of a punch
on his own jaw instead,
was knocked right from his feet,
landed unconscious in the street,
waked up cuffed in a police cell
and it was totally beyond him
that a small lean policeman
had given him a beating

and it was the last trouble
that the town, the police and people
in the local hotels and bars
ever had with Stan
and what had become of him
no one knows.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Weakness In His Strength

"WEAKNESS IN HIS STRENGTH"

Quote;
Weakness in his strength
Born by hatred and raised by anger
He felt like his life was hangin on a hanger
Poor little one,
People loved his dad, but to him he was dead
Happiness.
His dad's name, in his senses
Covered by memories
And surrounded by sadness
He said he had seen the worst
But he is not the first
He had failure as his big brother
Hatred kept near them as their mother
He thanked God for every breath
But could not find the weakness in his strength

The weakness in his strength
Poor little one, with his
Weakness in his strength

Lights looked bright to others but to him
They looked deem
Funeral for his mother…
Dead and gone was Mrs. Hatred
That's the moment he forgot about hate and
Decided to move in with dad,
Living Mr. Anger alone which left him mad
Success, a beautiful lady his dad
Started dating last weak
She was introduced to him
But still felt weak
Education, who she met at school and changed his life
Who she later made his wife
Had to hire a babysitter by the name of health
After having a baby who they named wealth.

The weakness in his strength
Weakness in his strength
Started facing death.
Written by,
Ino29

poem by Ino29 Music
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That There Dog O' Mine

Macquarie the shearer had met with an accident. To tell the truth, he had been in a drunken row at a wayside shanty, from which he had escaped with three fractured ribs, a cracked head, and various minor abrasions. His dog, Tally, had been a sober but savage participator in the drunken row, and had escaped with a broken leg.

Macquarie afterwards shouldered his swag and staggered and struggled along the track ten miles to the Union-Town Hospital. Lord knows how he did it. He didn't exactly know himself. Tally limped behind all the way on three legs. The doctors examined the man's injuries and were surprised at his endurance.

Even doctors are surprised sometimes - though they don't always show it. Of course they would take him in, but they objected to Tally. Dogs were not allowed on the premises. 'You will have to turn that dog out,' they said to the shearer, as he sat on the edge of a bed.

Macquarie said nothing. 'We cannot allow dogs about the place, my man,' said the doctor in a louder tone, thinking the man was deaf. 'Tie him up in the yard then.' 'No. He must go out. Dogs are not permitted on the grounds.'

Macquarie rose slowly to his feet, shut his agony behind his set teeth painfully buttoned his shirt over his hairy chest, took up his waistcoat, and staggered to the comer where the swag lay. 'What are you going to do?' they asked.

'You ain't going to let my dog stop?' 'No. It's against the rules. There are no dogs allowed on the premises.' He stooped and lifted his swag, but the pain was too great, and he leaned back against the wall.

'Come, come now! man alive!' exclaimed the doctor, impatiently. 'You must be mad. You know you are not in a fit state to go out. Let the wardsman help you to undress.' 'No!' said Macquarie. 'No. If you won't take my dog in you don't take me. He's got a broken leg and wants fixing up just - just as much as - as I do.

If I'm good enough to come in, he's good enough - and - and better.' He paused awhile, breathing painfully, and then went on. 'That - that there old dog of mine has follered me faithful and true, these twelve long hard and hungry years. He's about - about the only thing that ever cared whether I lived or fell and rotted on the cursed track.'

He rested again; then he continued: 'That - that there dog was pupped on the track,' he said with a sad sort of smile. 'I carried him for months in a billy can and afterwards on my swag when he was knocked up… And the old slut - his mother - she'd foller along quite contented - sniff the billy now and again - just to see if he was all right… She follered me for God knows how many years. She follered me till she was blind - and for a year after. She folleredme till she could crawl along through the dust no longer, and - and then I killed her, because I couldn't leave her behind alive! '

He rested again. 'And this here old dog,' he continued, touching Tally's upturned nose with his knotted fingers, 'this here old dog has follered me for - for ten years; through floods and droughts, through fair times and - and hard - mostly hard; and kept me from going mad when I had no mate nor money on the lonely track and watched over me for weeks when I was drunk - drugged and poisoned at the cursed shanties; and saved my life more'n once, and got kicks and curses very often for thanks; and forgave me for it all; and - and fought for me.

He was the only living thing that stood up for me against that crawling push of curs when they set onter me at the shanty back yonder - and he left his mark on some of 'em too; and - and so did I.' He took another spell.

Then he drew in his breath, shut his teeth hard, shouldered his swag, stepped into the doorway, and faced round again. The dog limped out of the comer and looked up anxiously. 'That there dog,' said Macquarie to the Hospital staff in general, 'is a better dog than I'm a man - or you too, it seems - and a better Christian.

He's been a better mate to me than I ever was to any man - or any man to me. He's watched over me; kep' me from getting robbed many a time; fought for me; saved my life and took drunken kicks and curses for thanks - and forgave me. He's been a true, straight, honest, and faithful mate to me - and I ain't going to desert him now. I ain't going to kick him out in the road with a broken leg. I - Oh, my God! my back!'

He groaned and lurched forward, but they caught him, slipped off the swag, and laid him on a bed. Half an hour later the shearer was comfortably fixed up. 'Where's my dog?' he asked, when he came to himself.

'Oh, the dog's all right,' said the nurse, rather impatiently. 'Don't bother. The doctor's setting his leg out in the yard.'

poem by Henry Lawson
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You Don't Have To Let Go

I don't need your strength anymore
cause you've made me strong
You may not see the one light in me
And you dreamed of
Holding me in your arms
All the days that you gave
All the moments you've saved me,
Praying for my life
Sacrificed, just to make me who I am on my own
You don't have to let go
You don't say it
But it's in your eyes
All the fears of good-bye
But I can promise
You'll always have a place, and a way to my heart
All the days that you gave
All the moments you've saved me,
Praying for my life
Sacrificed, just to make me who I am on my own
You don't have to let go
I can live
Cause you lived for me
And I can love
Because you loved me.
All the days that you gave
All the moments you've saved me,
Praying for my life
Sacrificed, just to make me who I am on my own
You don't have to let go
(Ooh ooh ooh)
You don't have to let go

song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Could I Let You Down

I don't need your strength anymore
cause you've made me strong
You may not see the one light in me
And you dreamed of
Holding me in your arms
All the days that you gave
All the moments you've saved me,
Praying for my life
Sacrificed, just to make me who I am on my own
You don't have to let go
You don't say it
But it's in your eyes
All the fears of good-bye
But I can promise
You'll always have a place, and a way to my heart
All the days that you gave
All the moments you've saved me,
Praying for my life
Sacrificed, just to make me who I am on my own
You don't have to let go
I can live
Cause you lived for me
And I can love
Because you loved me.
All the days that you gave
All the moments you've saved me,
Praying for my life
Sacrificed, just to make me who I am on my own
You don't have to let go
(Ooh ooh ooh)
You don't have to let go

song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Staples

Cause it hasn't been that long
since you almost hit the tree.
Cause it hasn't been that long
since you hit the pole because of speed.
Do you remember
the ambulance it took you there?
Do you remember
they cut your pants your favorite pair?
They shaved your head.
Where's all your hair.
The doctor said,
"We need some staples for his head."
The doctor said,
"Another foot you could be dead."
The doctor said,
"We need some staples for his head."
The doctor said,
"You should have took the bus instead."
All you could hear
was kachunk, kachunk, kachunk.
All you could hear
was the doctor putting staples in this punk.
He could have died that day.
Which means that he would not be here.
He would have gone away,
friends and family we'd shed our tears.
But the good thing would be
is that we would always know.
He would be living
with Jesus Christ in his new home.

song performed by by Relient K
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four Oclock In The Morning

4 oclock in the morning
When the ambulance arrived
4 oclock in the morning
When the ambulance arrived
The blue lights were flashing
As they lay my baby down inside
They took her to the hospital
In the darkest hour of the night
They took her to the hospital
In the darkest hour of the night
It was silent as the grave
As my baby lay beneath the light
They turned on the gas and cut her open
She didnt feel no pain
They turned on the gas and cut her open
She didnt feel no more pain
Daylight was breaking
And down came the rain
Down came the rain
Down came the rain
Down came the rain
Down came the rain

song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Have Not Knocked

You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '

You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '

When I had been in double struggles,
You have not knocked.
Or when I had been on my knees,
You have not knocked.
And when I felt grumpy and crunchy,
You have not knocked.
Or when I've asked you to leave me,
You have not knocked.

You know I can get really moody,
But, you have not knocked.
And carry drama to extremes,
No, you have not knocked.
You've stuck with me when I've been stinky,
And, you have not knocked.
To me you are my 'everything',
And I love you a lot.

You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '

You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '

Whenever I've been down and dumpy,
You have not knocked.
Or when I've picked my wounds to bleed so,
You have not knocked.
And when I pout with rudeness rooted,
You have not knocked.
Or when I whined consistently,
No, you have not knocked.

You know I can get really moody,
But, you have not knocked.
And carry drama to extremes,
But, you have not knocked.
You've stuck with me when I've been stinky,
And, you have not knocked.
To me you are my 'everything',
Because of patience you've got.

You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '

You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '

And...
In my heart you are adored.
That's what I need to show you more.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nursing Home Neglect

I've seen those who are suffering very bad
Those whose mere existence very sad
I am blessed to be well and alive each day
For those people I continue to pray
I have seen so much neglect and abuse
For the young and elderly never a truce
So hopelessly lying in their beds, day in day out
They can't say a word, just an occasional shout
Have to lie in their waste most of the time
Their bodies covered with dirt and grime
Does anyone out there really care?
Or is this a cross for the poor elderly to bear
They can't eat or drink when they need to
It's not their decision, not part of the crew
Their minds are gone and they can't remember
So taken advantage of, a smoldering ember
They have no control over their life anymore
Often found in their rooms, laying on the floor
The cuts on their head, don't know what happened
They either fell or had a good slapping
Call an ambulance they say out loud
Keep it quiet, don't want a crowd
They can't tell the hospital, what happened to them
Can't remember anything, the home was a gem
Many broken bones and cuts on their face
Is this normal routine at this horrible place
So bad an infection, that they finally die
Who's to blame, the death certificates a lie
The hospital doesn't report the neglect
It's not their problem, what the heck
The doctor lies to make it so easy
Has no consience, he's pretty sleazy
If you have a loved, better check where you put them
Because most of them are bad and need condemned
My mother is gone to a better place now
It's in heaven, where there is plenty of chow
She is not neglected or abused anymore
God knows what happens, and isn't found in the floor
She's singing and dancing and waiting for me
She's sad no longer but full of glee
God will restore what was done to her
Since she's in heaven with her new transfer!

poem by Donna Nimmo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Control Emotions

I could vividly remember their presence around cot
The doctor was hurriedly called or brought
I sensed some checks were going on body
Surely they were hands of experts or somebody

I was not sweating yet felt some water drops on face
Daughter was unable to control emotions in this case
Time was running out and she had to take decision
In few hours from now I shall be no more as living person

I gathered the strength and tried to murmur
It was difficult to speak but tried to utter
She leaned over my head and landed an ear
It seemed as if I was away since many years

“You are intelligent girl and can think of future”
“Don’t get perturbed over my departure”
I was loosing pulse yet spoke few more words
“Just push ahead and never look backward

“Miss me not” for work has not been left unfinished
Any living being has to go and stand perished
Whoever has come on earth may have to depart
This is philosophy of life and inseparable part

She was loosing control with emotions
What else was to be picked up as lessons?
Gain the strength and steadily walk one the rope
I had advised her not to loose hope

This is how life is to be spend and carried on
If stay undecided then most of the life might be gone
Something good has to be picked up and followed
Emotion and attachment are not to take over or allowed

Death is certain and in knowledge of everybody
Heaven may accept soul leaving behind the body
The mortals may be consigned to flames to merge with earth
The mission was accomplished as life was lived after birth

The relatives and children may lament the demise
As life was spent with struggle and lots of promises
I tried to close the eyes for eternal sleep
But won’t know when I may sleep in coma very deep

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carry Me Away

Patrick simmons / jeffrey baxter / michael mcdonald
There was a place in east st. louis
It was in nineteen fifty nine
When they played they filled the streets with music
That lonely blue note music
That takes your cares away, far away
They packed the place when the band was playin
To get some joy from a smoke filled room
Through that door you could see the bodies swayin
The blue note band was playin
Some lonely blue note song, all night long
Oh, it carried me away, oh, carried me away
Oh, it carried me away, oh, carried me away
No place Id rather stay
If you should ever make it to st. louis
On some hot and lonely night
If you listen you can hear that blue note music
They fill the streets with music
It carries you away, far away
Oh, it carried me away, oh, carried me away
Oh, it carried me away, oh, carried me away
No place Id rather stay

song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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