Slow blues already walking—low sway in the rhythm, strings laying a dark polish over the room.

King’s guitar answers first. A phrase bends up, holds, then falls away and leaves the gap open.

There’s the pocket—unhurried, easy to stand in, with a little ache still left in the timing.

Voice arrives on the title like a fact the band already knew: the thrill is gone.

He sits behind the beat and lets “gone away” land plain while the guitar answers between lines.

Now the wrong gets named, still without rush—guitar right there as the second witness.

Title comes back and the groove just keeps walking under those cool strings.

Absence keeps circling—gone from me—more like living inside the knowledge than discovering it.

“I’ll still live on” changes the pressure without lightening it. Survival, then the loneliness right after.

Guitar takes the air now. Notes aren’t crowded—they bend, flare, and release while the band holds the floor steady.

Voice returns on the title, and “for good” hardens what was already true.

Call and answer again—voice, then guitar filling the same wound from another angle.

He’s measuring a future past it—“someday… over it all”—still on that same measured drag.

Free, free now—but it doesn’t sound clean. The guitar keeps bending around the word like it has to be pulled loose.

“Free from your spell.” The band stays warm, almost elegant, and that elegance is severe.

Last turn of the lyric: it’s all over, and all that’s left is wishing well.

Words step out. The guitar keeps the ache going—no speech left, just the lead line carrying it.

Still that long walk under him. Same pocket, more room around each bend and vibrato.

Nothing collapses out here. The hurt just stays upright while the solo keeps talking.

Pressure finally eases—the groove loosens, and the last gestures start letting go.