Old School Blues recorded at the Hopson Plantation in Clarksdale Mississippi

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I wrote this after driving to a place the locals call the real crossroads. I imagined myself as the devil buying the souls of the young and naive. The guitar licks were inspired by some Stax records stuff I heard a while back.

Come down to the crossroads
When the moon's up high
Bring your six string guitar
And a pint of home brew rye

I don't need all your money
I don't need your gold
I don't need your women
I just simply need your soul

Now you're howling like a wolf
Born under a bad bad sign
Playing like old Robert Johnson
And now your soul is mine

You'll see me walking
All dressed in black
My eyes like a raging fire
Smoke rising from my tracks