The Devil Cry to My Blues”

[INTRO SPOKEN WORD – over faint slide guitar & distant thunder] (It already comes with the smell of spilled whiskey and cigarette smoke! But let me tell you, with my crossroads-blueswoman ear: that cadence of a dirt-road song, raw and dragging, sounds like a final sentence. Like the very legend of the crossroads: with the air of an epitaph, of destiny carved in stone. My favorite choice is the cursed blues:) “I’m gonna leave here and make the devil cry to my blues.” (It even echoes Robert Johnson’s “I’m going down to the crossroads” — but here… I’m the one who makes the Devil cry.) So he’ll be left with the soul of a curse sung on the edge of the road. [silence — then the riff begins] [guitar bends, harmonica wails low — silence — then the riff begins] [Verse 1] Yesterday you danced with the Devil, and you didn’t see. I sold my shadow just to bring the blues back to life. Yesterday you danced with the Devil, and you didn’t see. I stitched my pain and gave a soul to my little blues. [PRE-CHORUS] Yesterday you danced with the Devil, and you didn’t see. I gave a soul to my little blues. Yesterday you danced with the Devil, and you didn’t see. I gave back the soul to my little blues. [CHORUS] He managed to touch your soul with my little blues. “I’m gonna leave here and…… ….. make the devil cry to my blues. ….. make the devil cry to my blues. ….. make the devil cry to my blues. ….. make the devil cry to my blues.” “Yesterday no one saw him. And you… you danced with him.” [Verse 2] Yesterday you danced with the Devil, unaware. He only smiled, while your feet burned on the floor. Yesterday you danced with the Devil, unaware. And it was my guitar that screamed for your salvation. [PRE-CHORUS] [CHORUS] [SOLO] [Verse 3] Yesterday you danced with the Devil, and I could hear. Each of his chords stealing a piece of you. Yesterday you danced with the Devil, and I could hear. Until he touched your soul… with my little blues. [BRIDGE – SPOKEN WORD – over faint slide guitar & distant thunder] “They say Robert Johnson went down to the crossroads… …and he sold his soul to play the blues. But me? I’m not here to sell. I’m here to collect. I’m gonna leave this place, walk straight into that b*****g night… and I’ll make the Devil himself cry to my blues.” [BRIDGE INSTRUMENTAL] [guitar bends, harmonica wails low — silence — then the riff begins] [PRE-CHORUS] [CHORUS] [Outro – spoken, raspy, almost a whisper] “At the crossroads… Not every pact is b***d. Sometimes… it’s music.” [LAST CHORUS] He managed to take my soul with my little blues. “I’m gonna leave here and…… ….. make the devil cry to my blues. ….. make the devil cry to my blues. ….. make the devil cry to my blues. ….. make the devil cry to my blues.” “Yesterday no one saw him. And you… you danced with him.”