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
