These songs go out to my friend LaEscapee, and others who have died or been wounded by eating the wrong slice of pie. My friend, take a break, then ask politely and with frank apology for reinstatement a few months down the line. You have been over-punished, but sometimes there is justice and mercy in this screwed up world.
Black or white, local or out-of-town, they all had Longhair's music in common. Just that mambo-rhumba boogie thing.
—Allen Toussaint
I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn't play
And in the streets the children screamed
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken
And the three men I admire most-
the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost-
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died