New museum dedicated to the Chicago Blues
You’re in heaven.
But you’re on your knees.
And your teeth are in the dirt.
It’s primal agony,
Sweating and suffering, writhing suffering and sweat,
But you are elevated.
Exalted.
You’ve got the guts, the drive to go through it again.
Because you have to.
Because it’s in your bloody bones,
Because you’re America.
Flawed and pulsing and alive.
And we are the city that works.
Lub-dub.
Lub-dub.
You are the lub-dub of our south side,
lub-dub of our west.
You sucked all the soul up out of our city in one desperate slurp
And you’ve got none left
Because you sold it
To Lucifer,
Lub-dub, lub-dub,
For one last chance with her,
Her with those brown lips you last saw
licked in neon by a pool table on 43rd Street.
You inherited the grinning heritage of the gods.
You’re bad.
You’re blind.
You never learn. Do you?
You’re a revelation,
Faith and heartbreak and renewal, howling down Halsted.
You’re always changing
Our moans, our minds and the direction of the river.
Because we are the city that works.
The city that fights.
The city that comes together for one thing.
Lub-dub, lub-dub.
You are the blues.
And you are our experience. Our story.
In the city that buys and sells and hustles and grinds.
Our work is never done.
Damn right I got the blues.
The Chicago Blues Experience. Bring it on home.