The Blues Mean Nothing To Me

from by Ryan Wasoba

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I stumbled across words of love and loss
Fighting for air in the radio static
A man sang a song
He said his thrill was gone
I couldn't quite feel sympathetic

Because I've never been thrilled, captivated, or chilled
I try, I end up so empty
I turned off the dial, sat in silence for a while
Because the blues, they mean nothing to me

I had to get fixed or at least get my fix
So I saw my old family physician
I said, "Doctor, your patient is vapid and vacant.
Please give me your strongest prescription."
He said, "All the world's pills won't leave you fulfilled
I'm a doctor, I'm not a magician."

Then he ripped out a note from the pad in his hand
And scribbled words illegibly
And I couldn't read it but I'm sure that I need it
Because the blues, they mean nothing to me

I called the pharmacy, they put me on hold
To the voice of a sad southern singer
She moaned and she growled
She howled so loud she maxed out my poor telephone speaker
And I craved an epiphany but it just didn't happen to me
The pharmacist picked up the receiver
And I hadn't been made a believer

So I went to a festival down on the riverfront
Sponsored by a radio station
I was fenced in by signs, each one advertised
For a beverage supply corporation
And the band sang its rage on a hundred foot stage
Through a ten thousand watt P.A. system

I guess the first line was nice, because the band played it twice.
The third line wrapped up so neatly
The audience cheered and drank nine dollar beers
And the blues still meant nothing to me

So I tried my guitar and tried desperately hard
To play with some kind of conviction
But it was science, not art
All head and no heart
It was emotional exploitation

And I'm reminded of a man with magical hands
Who traded his soul off to satan
And I wonder how much a soul goes for now
When you factor in depreciation

All the devil can afford is twelve bars and three chords
It must be the economy
Demonic possession can't withstand a recession
And the blues still mean nothing to me

I wish I could say what I'm needing to say
Just by moaning and bending a string
But my voice is a joke and my strings are all broke

Oh, if I could say what I'm needing to say
Would anyone be listening?
When each verse and each chorus falls like trees in the forest

Oh, if I could say what I'm needing to say
Would the words even mean anything?
If the blues mean nothing to me?

The blues mean nothing to me.


from Music For No Reason, released June 25, 2012
Ryan Wasoba - everything.

Recorded in Spring of 2011, remixed and mastered in the Summer of 2012



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Ryan Wasoba Edwardsville, Illinois

This is the page for the music Ryan Wasoba occasionally makes in his home in Edwardsville, Illinois, a sleepy town located in the Eastern sector of the Greater St. Louis Metropolitan Area.

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