way down in the deep south
a chilling note from his mouth
in a dead-end neighborhood
made a living the best he could
without money or an education
he sang the blues for an entire nation
ooh ooh yea yea
but you can’t help feeling good when you hear the song
an old guitar strapped across his back
plays beside the sidewalk crack
workers pass by, they don’t give a damn
can’t feel the rhythm of the guitar man
and there’s no denying
he’s got a product no one’s buying
he sits alone with his thoughts of the past
now his time is slipping past
all his early hopes and dreams
faded with the wind it seems
and now they appreciate
the song of struggle he created