Tell me baby and speak it true
What do I gotta do?
What do I gotta do?
What the hell do I gotta do…?
To shake this funk of the Mistress Blues.

Sprawled out bare on the dusty floor,
Begging desperate for something more,
But that’s all to be in store…
When you’re taking on the Mistress Blues.
When you’ve earned the beating of the Mistress Blues.

Screaming with a smoke cracked voice-
Coughing, sputtering, spinning, calling.
Hating everything that makes longing.
Just waiting out the storm and clinging onto you,
With a swollen hear and empty arms in a ghostly dim-lit room.

Beat nicking to the shadows with squeezed shut eyes
And staining the sheets for being over rouged.
Glitter shattered like a w****…
And cursing thoughts of over dues.
Slipping to insanity of the lonely Mistress Blues.

A soul that’s tipsy on depression.
A mind that’s lost in fright.
I try to write.
To find some sight.
To look as beautiful as I might.

Always trying, trying, trying.
Please keep me just for trying,
Though I’m one for always whining,
As I bear the mask of shameless lying.
And dwell in the Mistress Blues.

I hold on fast, my world is dying,
Splitting in half, the knots untying,
From living the Mistress Blues-
And courting sin by struggling in this woman’s plotting duel.
My opponent hasn’t the slightest clue.

She is openly yours and I am secretly too.
Behind closed doors we whisper “I love you”.
Then I’m weeping, as I am reaching
Through overpowering tearing pleading
‘Til silence fills the stiff cold room.

Now I’m lying on the bed with nothing else to do.
Nothing else to do.
Nothing else to do.
Nothing else to do but dream of you;
Then wake up heaving from the Mistress Blues.

So tell me baby, please speak it true.
What do I gotta do?
What do I gotta do?
What the Hell do I gotta do…?
To toss this burden of the Mistress Blues.