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Soul rights
 

A wind blew cold at a crossroads,

Midsummer but the trees had no leaves,

A young star had been told of a deal made of gold,

Sign up now, say goodnight to your soul.

 

A timeless creature from Hades,

With a penchant for catchy and cool,

It touched his dark heart, ‘could be just what I want,’

Control of the pop music charts.’

 

Rogue radio stations all loved it,

Teenagers went wild for the sound,

Risqué and oblique, it had something unique,

An X-factor that dwelt underground.

 

A wind blew wild at a crossroads,

It moaned for the heart of the blues,

Every Saturday night, bluesmen lost their sole rights,

And the Devil got all the best tunes.

 

© Joseph G Dawson