Guitar riffs bounce down the sidewalk
Bluesman in the street
his folding chair’s the main stage
Tip bucket at his feet
Singin' the stories
walkin' by
When you sings yours,
can you meet his eye?
Sings you
Sings me
sings 'bout the troubles
that don't let a man be.
Sings what ain't there
or what don't stay
What comes in the night
or your quiet day.
Sings from your bottle
or your tired shoes.
Sings 'bout your heart
and how you paid your dues.
Con man can tell ya
where ya got your shoes
Only bluesman knows
where you found your blues.
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