Roy's Guitar
I walk into an alley of madmen and midnight messiahs.
Under a crazy moon they preach and jangle on overturned milk crates.
7 messiahs. They cry in disharmony. In dissonant voices. Made up words. Indecipherable verse.
Ragged newspapers as holy books like their ragged hospital clothes
They preach
The madmen listen
They sit in a half circle on thin cold snow. Some pass the bottle. Some mutter. Some yelp at the 7 messiahs.
I listen
I listen
I listen...
To the alley music that separates the church and the bar
A choir sings, the organ plays Handel
Their voices carry to the crazy moon
From the One Lucky come electric waves of Roy's guitar
The chorus of drunkenness meets Handel's holy loneliness
The jangle of noise
The jangle of noise
The jangle of noise
Crazy...Crazy...Crazy moon
The madmen rise and shuffle under the mania of streetlights
The 7 messiahs leave the milk crates behind
Tomorrow I know they will come again. Where there are always alley cries of madness and music under a midnight moon.
