, , , , , , ,

Everyone loves the guy with the guitar

Friday nights at Kenny’s bar

He plays there 

Joins them for a spell

A shot

A pour

They pay him well

(Well, what they can)

It suits him fine

To play his songs is plenty kind

Of them he only asks an ear

But truly

Fights to get through the year

With only a guitar to his name

The story always stays the same

It grows on ya

But you could forget it.