Backwater Blues

Done with the compass, done with the chart
Stuck in these shallows that I know by heart
Thoughts of the future are yesterday’s news
The sun never sets on these backwater blues

I came to sample the tropical pace
I’ll likely stay till the dirt hits my face
I went and hung up my workingman’s shoes
And planted my toes in the backwater blues

Tin cup for coffee, dirt for a yard
Old dog too sleepy to move
Long as you’re living you’re lost in a spell
And when you’re dead, well, man who can tell?

Bridge to the mainland is closed for repair
Peg-leg policeman asleep in a chair
Could be the boredom, could be the booze
Even the cops get the backwater blues

Tin cup for coffee, dirt for a yard
That flop-eared **** rarely moves
Try not to breathe lest you take in the smell
Try not to stop ‘cause

Done with the compass, done with the chart
Stuck in these shallows that I know by heart
My mind is drugged, now I’m too stoned to choose
All’s I got left are the backwater blues
No, the sun never sets on these backwater blues