A sweet guitar sweeps down to save you. Monks abandon their cloisters to consort with village girls. Trumpets herald the unions. Electric percussion pins them in eternal embrace. A rasping guitar empties itself on a blackplain.
Blues duck and swing low down to the bone.
Blues churn and sing and reach inside you like the phantom arm of a faith healer and pull your guts free. Angels wail on a dark mesa. The sheriff binds his hands and a noose falls 'round his neck. It's raining in heaven. Love lights your soul and darkness spills from your toes.