To Beat The Devil

It was winter time in Nashville, down on music row

And I was looking for a place to get myself out of the cold

To warm the frozen feeling that was eating at my soul

And keep the chilly wind off me and my guitar

Well, my thirsty wanted whisky; and my hungry needed beans

But it'd been of 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 guess you'd could call it a Tavern

Cigarette smoke to the ceiling, sawdust on the floor

Friendly shadows

Well, I saw that there was just one old man, that was sitting at the bar

And in the mirror I could see him checking me and my guitar

An' he turned and said: Come up here boy, and show us what you are

I said: I'm dry, he bought me a beer

Then he nodded at my guitar and said: It's a tough life, ain't it?

I just looked at him and he said: You ain't making any money, are you?

I said: You've been reading my mail

He just smiled and said: Let me see that guitar

I've got something you oughta hear

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 think's going to hear

And if you should die explaining how the things that they complain about

Are things they could be changing who do you think's going to care?

There were other lonely singers in a world turned deaf and blind

Who were crucified for what they tried to show

And their voices have been scattered by the swirling winds of time

All the truth remains that no-one wants to know

Well, the old man was a stranger, but I'd heard his song before

Back when failure had me locked out on the wrong side of the door

When no-one stood behind me but my shadow on the floor

And lonesome was more than a state of mind

You see, the devil haunts a hungry man

If you don't wanna join him, well you gotta beat him

I ain't saying I beat the devil, but I drank his beer for nothing

And then I stole his song

And you still can hear me singing to the people who don't listen

To the things that I am saying, praying someone's going to hear

And I guess I'll die explaining how the things that they complain about

Are things they could be changing, hoping someone's going to care

I was born a lonely singer, and I'm bound to die the same

But I've got to feed the hunger in my soul

And if I never have a nickle, I won't ever die ashamed

Cause I don't believe that no-one wants to know