Ghost Of Guy Clark

The old man was sitting on the tailgate of a '62 Ford flatbed

Picking on an old guitar, he looked at me and said: The engine’ss dead

It was a good run son, as he strummed a melancholy chord

Now I've got nothing but time to kill until the coming of the Lord

He played me a few songs, one about a Randall knife

One about a train, one about the pain of losing the love of his life

He took a puff of that cigarette, he blew a breath of smoke that could smother

He said: They always said these would kill me and they did - then he laughed and he lit another

He said: I hear that you write songs boy, play me one that I might know

So I sang him my latest greatest hit, a number one on music row

He stopped me before I could finish the verse, said: I think I've heard enough of that

When you’ve heard one you've heard em all - with a grimace of a grin he took his old guitar back

He said: I guess that's alright if that's all you've got to give

If that's all you've got to say in this one life you've got to live

There’s no meaning in your melody so predictable and weak

Wasted words and shallow rhymes I’d rather hear a woman cuss me a blue streak

You see, the pencil to the pad is like the bullet to the gun

The pen is mightier than the sword if the words are forged from fire from the sun

Yet some do it for the fame, the fun, the money and all the glory

Yet some do it for their weary soul, won't rest until they tell their story

You gotta make ’em feel what you feel, help 'em dream a dream and make 'em wonder

It's like catch lightning in a bottle, make ’em smell the rain and hear the thunder

Let 'em taste the tears of joy or the bittersweet taste of sin

Find the passion in a four letter word or a Sunday morning Amen

And then he flicked his ashes and he pointed at my heart

Said: If you're searching for solid gold, that'd be a real good place to start

Let the words speak for themselves, tell the truth, right or wrong

And bare your soul for all to see all for the sake of the song