The Office

It's the craziest place,
nothing like you've ever seen before
A gallery of unknown faces,
All with a certain odd charm,
reach out to you with empty eyes.
Crying It's me ! it's me!
Ghosts from concerts past.
that got lost looking for concerts west
Get through this graveyard
and there's the bough of cotton
with plenty left on the branch
Hanging in memory of those
who toiled in fields of clay,
not clover,
There is no black cat
but a Bible,
in plain view,
a testament to the Faith of his Fathers
who made it through unimaginable hardships
Just so he could have this office.

He sits in that big black leather swivel chair,
dressed to the nines and waiting
for another face to come through the door,

Above his head on the wall
are portraits of his Family
some of whom still live in the Delta,
They are remarkably stiff and somber,
for these photographs were taken long ago,
and the pain is ingrained,
But most remarkable is their Pride,
In themselves and their ability to remain Dignified,
in spite of the torture they endured so he could be King
in this Office.

Remarkable is his charm,
wide as the Mississippi ,
is his grin
and white teeth polished,
shining
A Sunday - Go - To Meeting Smile
with a double-edged sword,
Just like the Lord himself has,
and don't think he wouldn't use it,
For no one is puttin' anything over on him,
He's been there and back
His next move will be going Home,
For no one wants to die in Hollywood,
without having a Hit.

But before he reclaims those forty acres
that the Family left him as a Souvenir,
There is a little work to be done, a couple of
faces,
New to the wall,
Must be dealt with
just in case there might be
Something beyond the entrance fee
to the Office.