Slaughterhouse Blues
A soulful acoustic blues with harmonica about working in a meat packing plant.

The bell tolls loud where the shadows crawl
Rust on the blade where the echoes fall
Blood on the floor and a story untold
In the belly of the beast where the nights grow cold

Steel chains whisper like ghosts in the breeze
A congregation of sorrow soaked down to the knees
The walls hum secrets
Low and obscene
It’s a haunted waltz
A butcher’s regime

Sing me the slaughterhouse blues my friend
Where the broken path meets the bitterest end
Harmonica cries like a lone wolf’s sigh
In the house of steel where the lost souls lie

Rivers of red carve tales through the grime
Each drop falls heavy like a church bell’s chime
Fingers on strings
They dance through the dirt
While the harmonica howls like a heart full of hurt

The moonlight don’t touch this place of despair
Even shadows refuse to linger or care
I strum the truth and blow through the pain
This house don’t bleed but it pours like rain

Slaughterhouse Blues

here, there and everywhere

A little travel ballad I made, AI generated as everything I do

Sitting On Top Of The World

Doc Watson

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