He sits all alone playing his guitar
Out in the back of a little cafe.
And no one seems to hear so he closes his eyes
And just lets the music take him away.

Singing songs of love, songs of broken hearts.
And he's worn out his luck and his last pair of jeans,
But you keep going on when you're living on dreams,
And you feel it inside, and the guitar don't lie.

There's a lady he knows who often comes by,
She