A couple of years back I come across a great and wasted friend of mine in the hallway of a recording studio. And while he was reciting some poetry to me that he had written, I saw that he was about a step away from dying, and I couldn't help but wonder why. And the lines of this song occurred to me. I'm happy to say he's no longer wasted, and he's got him a good woman. And I'd like to dedicate this to John and June, who helped showed me how to beat the devil.
It was wintertime in Nashville
Down on Music City Row
And I was looking for a place
And to get myself out of the cold
To warm the frozen feeling that was eating at my soul
Keep the chilly wind off my guitar
My thirsty wanted whiskey
But my hunger needed beans
But it had been a month of paydays
Since I'd heard that eagle scream
So with a stomach full of empty
And a pocket full of dreams
I left my pride and stepped inside a bar
Actually I'd guess you'd call it a tavern
Cigarette smoke to the ceiling
And sawdust on the floor
Friendly shadows
I saw that there was just one old man sitting at the bar
And in the mirror I could see him checking me and my guitar
And he turned and said,
Come up here, boy, and show us what you are
I said I'm dry, and he bought me a beer
He nodded at my guitar and said,
It's a tough life, ain't it?
I just looked at him
He said, you ain't making any money, are you?
I said, you been reading my mail
He just smiled and said, let me see that guitar
I got something you ought to hear
And then he laid it on me
If you waste your time a talking
To the people who don't listen
To the things that you are saying
Who do you thinks gonna hear?
And if you should die explaining how
The things that they complain about
Are things they could be changing
Who do you thinks gonna care?
There were other lonely singers
In a world turned deaf and blind
Who were crucified for what they tried to show
And their voic
