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Maura O'Connell

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Maura O'Connell

Blue Chalk

So I wonder how she's doing
I hate it when the rumors fly
They give off such a strange sense of mission
Wing your helplessness on high

But she would never run from strangers
She sang alone like a bell will toll
Way above the clang and the clatter
Out of fear for her demon soul

Maybe none of this is my business
And none of what I hear is true
I am far from the mint condition
Circulation's hard on you


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Hold tight, hang tough
Love's not enough
To keep you off that stuff
To save you......to save you now

He could always find the holes in the bottles
Even with a blindfold on
Never kept his seat on the wagon
Rolling off like a rolling stone

Blue chalk between his fingers
Hustling a poolroom song
He always kept a line for the singers
Pointing his cue right from wrong