AOWL Week 6: c.d.m (2-3) VS. Zenland (2-3) [ZENLAND WINS, 8-3.]

[Zen]

Letters from the Crossroad

My feet are swollen, But I keep on strollin through the heat that's growin,
No leaves are blowin, But there's no use in stoppin
I have no use, I'm rotten, The best picker but I'm less, a nigger
Raised off of blues and cotton and since I refuse to rot in
The noose they're droppin I'm confused, a problem,
So I leave the talking and keep walking after they got my boy Bruce and shot him,
They refuse to stop them, they choose to watch them
Lynch mobs get pissed off and leave us strangled
As our feet dangle in the trees beneath the angels
Beaten and mangled to tout their dominance
In a message sent that's evident it's without a conscience
Only about nonsense, So I packed my bags with a map and cash
And left the past at last but fears still instilled and mashed
And it's grown and grown, But a home ain't a home when it's filled with trash,
So I left that building fast and grabbed a guitar and pick
And a cart of cigs and learned where hell charted through,
Learned the twelve bar blues and charted quick to new points,
Gamblin and ramblin from juke joint to juke joint,
A livin attraction talented and travelin from Memphis to Jackson
With and women and cashin in on my gold record, I know I shoulda known better,
So mama here's my note, my letter, Sorry I left you neglected,
I'm just waiting on a debt to be collected and it's nearly locked in,
I reckon in a second I'll die a legend, But know I miss ya and I'm always with ya,
Sincerely, Robert Johnson