When the full moon makes dogs howl
I am your tomcat on the prowl
You’d rather be dead than in my shoes
I’m unwanted news
I am the hobo in the rain
Forever waiting on a train
I am the feud without a truce
I’m the stray cat blues
I’m what’s left when everything fails
If there’s a coffin, I’m its nails
I’m found in every kind of abuse
I tint every bruise
My home’s a bottle and a glass
I’ve got nine lives that we will pass
I’m not a bomb, but I’m its fuse
I’m the stray cat blues
I’m middle age that’s lost all former charm
I’m the needle shared by human junkyard arms,
The Edgar Allan Poe subject for a tale
– I’m love on fire sale
I’m all the trouble that was overbooked
I’m the opportunity that you overlooked
And I was made, I’m proud to say,
for singing on a rainy day
I am the lover gone again
I am the marrow of all pain
And as for all joints in need of juice
I’m the spirit in the booze
I am a nine-tail cat that flogs
And when it’s raining cats and dogs
You have a friend you can’t refuse
In the stray cat blues
(CONTINUED)