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Self-Help SongMy Pa had to fight port wine lotsa nightshe'd kneel and beg in near defeatbut he had a sword O that won his warand made the dragon of wine retreathe'd climb the steps and shut the door, to his upstairs room draw the shade and drop the needle, on a Muddy Waters tunesomehow the sorrow and blue weakness, slowly made him strongno shrink was worth a minute, of that self-help songnow just like a chill seeping from the hillsor phantom light of falling starssometimes fears at night find their way insidethrough the cracked dreams of my drafty heartso when true love's only shadow, takes a sad n lonely shapein a milkcrate in my basement, is an old Maxell tapeI take my boombox downstairs, and sit cross-legged till dawnplay Blood on the Tracks because, each tune's a self-help songdriving home for my final visitthe stars were a candlelight vigilthe DJ on that college stationhad just played some Joni Mitchelland I'd heard the mansion of heavenhas many steep and winding stairwaysbut when I heard that song by MuddyI felt my father on the airwavesthough with time we all die off, some of us live onin the mem'ries and deep blue notes, of a self-help song(c)2006 Robert George