“I told him I was a poet
I was lookin’ for the truth
I do not care for horses
Whiskey women or the lootI said I was a writer
My soul was all on fire
He looked at me
And he said you are a liar“Son, it’s faster horses
Younger women
Older whiskey
More money”‘
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The last stanza nails it! In fact, except for faster horses, what you’ve got there is the great triad of woes for all Blues songs: money, whiskey, and women.
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