LYRICS FROM THE SOUNDTRACK OF OUR (PAST) LIVES:
BLACK HAT BLUES
I went walking
in the evening air,
saw my baby in a window
she was combing her hair.
What can I do?
I got the black hat blues.
Walked up the stairs,
knocked on her door;
“Go away,” she said,
“Don’t wanna see you no more.”
What can I do?
I got the black hat blues.
“Let me in,” I cried;
she said, “It’s too late:
The sun is buried by fire
& fire is smothered by fate.”
What can I do?
I got the black hat blues.
So I climbed up a tree
& made like an ape;
you know you gotta be crazy
to make a good escape.
What can I do
about these black hat blues?
Walked all night,
couldn’t go to bed
‘cause there’s so much trouble
a-brewing in my head.
What can I do?
I got the black hat blues.
Finally got home
with the sun on the horizon,
put my black hat on
& the wind, it started rising.
What can I do
about the black hat blues?
She once said it worked magic,
but I didn’t believe that.
I guess she loved me
because of my black hat.
Tell me, what can I do
about these black hat blues?
She sent me out
to fill out a script:
They wouldn’t sell no points
& I took the hint.
What can I do
about the black hat blues?
I got back
& she was looking bad,
her arms were withered
& her hair was in mats.
What can I do?
I got the black hat blues.
She threw me out,
told me where to go;
said my hat drove her crazy
for the taste of snow.
Oh, what can I do
about the black hat blues?
I went walking
in the evening air;
snow drifts up to her window,
snow drizzling in her hair.
What can I do?
I got the black hat blues.
I used to be a clown,
a good way of saving time;
used to love a woman
who used to be mine.
What can I do
about these black hat blues?
Oh, what can I do?
Tell me, what can I do
about these goddamned black hat blues?
James Collins and Dana Pattillo, 1982ish.
Note: I was quite an insomniac in the good ol’ bad ol’ days. I often did walk the streets ‘til dawn. I often made up bluesy ditties and—sang is not the word—I wailed them to myself as I walked. Sometimes, when I got home, I would scribble them down and mail them to James. He would take this inchoate material, and would transform them into lyrics that could be sung to a nice sturdy blues lick—and James can sing and play guitar quite well, thank you.
12:53:48 AM 
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