I’m not sure how you manage to do this, but I’m never quite sure what it is that you’re playing when I hear your slurred drawl and your lazy guitar pickin’ from the top of the escalators. The best I can tell is that you are not the Off-Key Fife Guy or the Just-Because-You-Sing-At-Church-Doesn’t-M
When I catch sight of you, too tall and got up in duds Jake and Elwood would be proud of (assuming they could appreciate beige and corduroy), I know that the change is coming. I can almost see the gleam in your eye through those cheap sunglasses. You’re going to switch things up. A slight change and low delta blues, unmistakable now, roll down the stairs after me as I head for the platform. "Of course," I think to myself, happy in spite of (or perhaps because of) the sad notes that reduce everything to its most basic form. Yeah, I might be sad or bored or in pain, but others have known all of that, too.
I'm rarely the only one who's smiling.
Don’t ever change.