King Of The Blues

The day I was born, the moon crossed the sun
Mama cried, «sweet Jesus what have I done?
Lord have mercy on my unfortunate son»
Before I drew my second breath, Mama knew
She’d just given birth to the King of the Blues
And on that day somewhere somebody else died
Alone in a dark room and nobody cried
‘Cause there can only be one and I can’t be denied
Outriders told everybody the news
The King is dead, long live the King of the Blues
I’m the King of the Blues, thirteenth of the line
The first of my name and the last of my kind
One foot in the grave, one hand on the handle of time
Descended directly from St. John the Conqueroo
I’m the High Priest of Heartache and the King of the Blues
I’m a lover, a fighter, a prophet, a fool
The keeper of confidences, the lord of misrule
A consummate jack-of-all-trades of the Dickensian school
But they ain’t never made no love I couldn’t lose
I’m the last word of lonesome and the King of the Blues