She walks in silence a victim
of his violent outbreaks. He’s used her
as a stepping stone and left her stone free.
Somewhere they became ships passing.
All along the watchtower.

In the night, the angel with the bleeding heart
starts to burn the midnight oil, she toils
yearning, wishing to burn the house down.
She frowns, her gypsy eyes despise her shortcomings.
All along the watchtower.

She was once as bold as love, and above all else
she held him high. Her guy, her lover man,
her mojo man, Mr. Bad Luck who never really
gave a fuck about her. She has experienced it
all along the watchtower.

It’s still raining; she’s still dreaming, scheming.
Had she a machine gun or dagger, this dolly would serve
her manic depression and mess him up. But,
running wild was not the voodoo this child needs. She bleeds
all along the watchtower.

Hey Joe! Go play in crosstown traffic. She is sick
Of this crash landing. These castles made of sand
demand too much of her time. This foxy lady keeps drifting.
It’s scary. The wind calls her. Mary! But she walks alone in silence.
All along the watchtower!


(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

Based on the songs of Jimi Hendrix



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