This song isn't autobiographical, but it's a retelling of a story I heard.
He'd an old-fashioned way when he started to play
He'd an old-fashioned steel guitar
With no amps and no leads, it fulfilled all his needs
And together they'd both travelled far
Just an old troubadour on an old bar-room floor
Just an old troubadour and his song
But it tore them apart,'cause it came from his heart
And they'd not heard that art for so long
Then a kid playing pool said “this old man's a fool
He's not cool, just a ghoul past his prime”
So he walked to the wall where the jukebox stood tall
And he paid for some hits of the time
Then a girl passed him by with a look in her eye
That said don't even try to oppose
Pulled the plug from the wall said "An ass needs a stall
And we all hope you've got one of those"
She stood her ground, she stared him down
The kid raised a fist, then he smiled
He said "You're wasted on him"
Then he turned with a grin
And said "Girls like you drive me wild
You're young enough to be the old man's child"
When the kid left the room, a chord filled the gloom
And a voice sang a song for the stars
For the breeze in the trees, for nights such as these
And for girls who find lovers in bars
And when the chord died like a wave on the tide
Like the cry from a high flying bird
He put down his guitar, she said "I've got my car
And a jar, if you'll just say the word"
So that old troubadour left that old bar-room floor
Yes that old troubadour sang her song
And it tore her apart, 'cause it came from his heart
And she'd not felt that art for so long
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