at the bus stop where she got her hair done
she said "I don't know but if you ask the lord, he'll tell you"
Robert put the words to paper and asked the lady her name
she said "is that my bus?, my name is God, and yes that is my bus"
she said "I don't know but if you ask the lord, he'll tell you"
Robert put the words to paper and asked the lady her name
she said "is that my bus?, my name is God, and yes that is my bus"
Bobby didn't know what to do with this
He walked with his guitar down Main Street
To the place where it ended, the runway of cars
Made of steel, made of tin, made of flames
He found his El Camino
The car he named Victoria
He revved her up, put her in gear and rolled out of town
He made it home to the suburbs, to his blue and white house
With its niches and its copper antiquities
He said to his wife "I'm a bluesman, dear. I'm a bluesman for life"
His wife cried in her honey jasmine tea
She'd been to the bank that day
And the library. And the dry cleaners. And the butcher on Main Street
"I saw you talking to God" she said
"I didn't know she was a woman
And that she rides the bus
The uptown bus
The one called number 6"
Bobby said
"Yes, but I didn't know at the time
She was God, I just had to know
Where she got her hair done and if she carried a heavy load"
He continued
"Anyway. She just said she was God
She may have been lying, like your mother did to us
When she said we'd get the Forerunner
We never got the Forerunner"
But Robert Cray's wife
Had left the house by now
Slamming the door, in unison with Robert's next to last syllable
She ran down the cul de sac, screaming these words
"Bluesman, fuck yourself!"
Written in an office in Encino, 2003
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