ما نقدر نحب ثاني !

من قلبك تحبني كنت.

(يمك عشت لحظات )

كلها ايام وجرح قلبي يطيب

شحكي وياك .

تطمن ما بعد خنتك

شو زدت ماتغيرت!

الله وياه راح انساه

يمك عشت لحظات مسرعه7

THE HOOKMAN BLUES
written and produced by Lance Thomas Davidson ©️ 2025 All Rights Reserved

I was on my way to pick up Mary Jane,
She said, “Dad’s gone till midnight — be here ’fore eight.”
We rolled on down to Lover’s Lane,
Where the soft night settles low.
Two young hearts hummin’ quiet,
Where the Delta breezes go.

She leaned in close and kissed me,
Warm as midsummer wine.
Her hand traced my shoulder gentle,
Like a tune in triple-time.
We weren’t lookin’ for no devil,
Weren’t chasin’ no fear or sign,
Just a sweet slow Mississippi night,
Lettin’ the world fall behind.

Then that radio cracked and wailed,
Like a trumpet in a storm.
“Escaped man loose by Highway Nine…
Hook for a hand where a hand was torn.”
Mary stiffened like cold iron,
Said, “Lord, let’s go home tonight.”
But I told her, soft and shaky,
“Baby… everything’ll be a’right.”

Oh, but the night got teeth in Mississippi,
Clawin’ when the wind stands still.
When metal starts scratchin’ on your rooftop,
That hookman’s huntin’ for the kill.

Then a tap-tap hit the back glass,
Soft as a coffin nail.
Not the branches nor the river,
Not a nightbird on the trail.
Mary whispered, “That ain’t natural…”
And her breath began to shake.
And the moonlight seemed to tremble
Like it feared what moves awake.

I lit myself a cigarette,
Nerves jumpin’ like a juke-joint drum.
Rolled the window just an inch,
To knock the ashes where they come.
Mary snapped, “Don’t smoke right now,”
Her voice thin as broken reeds—
Had I rolled it down one inch deeper,
That hook’d have found my throat indeed.

I flicked the butt into darkness,
Pulled the window half-way tight,
Didn’t know death’s hand was waitin’,
Leanin’ in from out the night.
A steel hook swept past the opening—
I felt the cold breath of its aim,
Scraped the frame where my neck had been…
Lord, I’d have died without a name.

Then came that slow steel-singin’,
Draggin’ cross the car’s thin crown,
A long low shhhk like judgment,
Tryin’ hard to cut us down.
Then a heavy thump on the trunk door,
Like a man climbin’ down for blood,
And the oak tree shivered behind us
Like it understood the flood.

Oh, but the night got teeth in Mississippi,
Clawin’ when the wind stands still.
When metal starts scratchin’ on your rooftop,
That hookman’s huntin’ for the kill.

I stomped that pedal heavy,
Engine cried like a weary trombone.
Mary hid her face and prayed
In a trembling minor-tone.
Something rolled off the rooftop,
Tumbled back where shadows creep,
But the fear rode with us whisperin’,
“Child… this cut runs deep.”

At her car door I tried to steady,
Tried to breathe and shake it free,
And on the passenger handle hangin’ loose,
The truth stared straight at me.
A blood-wet sharpened hook swung soft,
Fresh drippin’ in the light—
Still warm from a killer’s grip
That brushed our lives that night.

Come dawn the law searched oak and ditch,
Found footprints circlin’ slow.
A torn straight-jacket sleeve up high
Where the mad winds never blow.
And carved into that bark real jagged,
Like a cornet cryin’ shook:
“You ran tonight… but soon enough,
I’m comin’ back for my hook.”

Oh, the night got teeth in Mississippi,
When your heart beats loud and still.
You may chase a kiss down Lover’s Lane,
But the hookman’s out there—
and that devil aims to kill.

THE HOOKMAN BLUES
Written by Lance Thomas Davidson
Copyright © 2025. All Rights Reserved.

This preamble affirms that the musical work titled The Hookman Blues is an original composition authored exclusively by Lance Thomas Davidson. It establishes full ownership of all lyrical, musical, and structural elements contained within the piece. Any reproduction, performance, distribution, or adaptation of this work requires prior written consent from the author. Unauthorized use is prohibited and subject to applicable international copyright law. All creative rights, moral rights, and publication rights are expressly reserved by the author.






THE HOOKMAN BLUES

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شحكي وياك .

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