Mill Hill Blues

Rundown houses...on a backstreet part of town

One of those streets you don’t want to walk down

(Don’t step on a crack...

you might break your mother’s back)

Old mill houses...all in a row

Rubbish and briars...the yards show

Nothing... but weeds ...do the side walks ...grow

The wind finds it lonesome...and wanders on

...Where have the good times gone...

The Mill has shut it doors...and closed down

No reason for workers to stay...in this part of town

They will issue no more paychecks on Friday

 The people have packed up...and gone away

The man from the bank foreclosed today

He ordered the locks changed on the doors

Now they’re just victims of poverty’s wars...

They had to leave...there was no compromise

...gone in search of good times promise...

 The neighborhood store...now empty and forsaken, lies

staring across the street with it’s broken window eyes

at an old rocking chair, gently rocking, moved by the breeze,

 a place where, in a by gone era...someone took their ease

 Against a fence, abandoned bed frames are left leaning,

..............a lost offering for the junk man’s gleaning

The frames have become Morning Glory’s home

...with their pieces all broken and bent

Anyone see where the good times went...

The street is silent...no traffic as in days of yore

The mailman doesn’t deliver here anymore

If it ever thrives again...it will be a chore

Small boys shortcut through here to the creek,

each with dancing step and sunburned cheek

...laughing and chasing each other along,

 not remembering a way of life that has come...and gone

They pass by here, carrying their poles...and wishing

Like them...the good times...have gone fishing...

7/11/03