From the recording Lothar Honnens Boxland Music Collection 4
New Mexico Blues
Denne sang er skrevet som en bluespræget refleksion over alderdommens ensomhed og tabet af sine nærmeste. Titlen "Bliv ikke gamle, det er noget lort" er både provokerende og ærlig – den fanger essensen af den smerte, der følger med at overleve sine venner.
Sangen følger en klassisk bluesstruktur med vers, omkvæd og et instrumentalt solo. Teksterne veksler mellem bitterhed og resignation, men finder i broen en dybere mening: at bevare minderne om dem, man har mistet.
Musikalsk set er sangen tænkt som en langsom, tung blues med akustisk guitar, hvor omkvædet gentager nøglefraserne "(noget lort)", "(væk og borte)" og "(din port)" som ekko af ensomheden. Guitarsoloen i midten giver plads til instrumentet at udtrykke den sorg, som ordene kun delvist kan fange.
Den afsluttende fade out symboliserer overgangen til "den anden side", hvor hovedpersonen endelig genforenes med sine venner.
Lyrics
## Verse 1
I sit here in my old chair
With pictures on the wall full of sunshine
All the faces I once knew
Are now just memories that burned
The phone doesn't ring anymore
Only the silence that grows harder
## Chorus
Don't get old, it's a load of crap
(a load of crap)
When all your friends are gone and away
(gone and away)
You stand back as the last man
With no one to hold your hand
Don't get old, it's a load of crap
(a load of crap)
Loneliness knocking at your door
(your door)
## Verse 2
We laughed and drank until dawn
Now gravestones are all I see of new
The cemetery is my new bar
Where I talk to them about all we were
Every flower I place there
Is a greeting to a friend I miss so much
## Chorus
Don't get old, it's a load of crap
(a load of crap)
When all your friends are gone and away
(gone and away)
You stand back as the last man
With no one to hold your hand
Don't get old, it's a load of crap
(a load of crap)
Loneliness knocking at your door
(your door)
## Verse 3
The mirror shows a stranger
With wrinkles deep as canyons in sand
My hands shake when I pour
A whisky for myself at the top of my stop
I toast to the dead now
Soon it's my turn, I know that well
## Solo
[Guitar solo - blues]
## Bridge
But maybe there's a meaning to it all
That I should tell their stories, not fall away
Keep the memory alive of our time
Before I move on to the other side
(other side)
## Final Chorus
Don't get old, it's a load of crap
When all your friends are gone and away
But I stand here as the last man
Holding our memories tight in my hand
Yes, don't get old, it's a load of crap
But I open one last time my door
Because soon I'll see you all again
My brothers, my sisters, my friends
(my friends)
[fade out]