Nobody leaves this place without singing the blues.
They’re slowed down because you can’t escape or run away;
you can only go through what life puts before you.
It’s amazing what happens when we tell our story.
Things aren’t quite as bad as we thought.
Oh, they may be bad alright,
but naming them takes away their ruthless power.
A little perspective helps too.
This is what I love: when you sing the blues you go through them.
And it’s really the only way.
Oh, I’ve tried other ways. Haven’t you?
The old Spiritual explains it though:
You can’t go around them ‘cause they’re too wide;
you can’t go over them ‘cause they’re too high;
and you can’t go under them ‘cause they’re too low.
I guess I’ll just go through, and try to keep singing. (Of course, anyone who has heard me sing, might ask that I investigate another way.)