Tin can coffee cup beneath a weeping willow.
I’m blue skyin’. Which way should I go.
I’m strumming my guitar. To my right is a crossroad.
To my left is a train passing slow.
I wish I wouldn’t starve if I just sat and sang.
That my friends would drop by. That I’d feel no pain.
I wish I wouldn’t freeze or get wet in the rain.
I wish I wouldn’t die if I just sat and sang.
Why would I wander? Well, where would I stay?
There’s only one place where a man can just play.
And it flies down each road. Rides on every train.
Sits beneath willows and can never remain.
Soon I’ll be in a small room in some city or some small town.
Don’t know how I’ll get there, but they always come around.
Ends meeting on blind dates and awkwardly parting ways.
Off to the next set-up. Little ol’ me giving chase.
I suppose the golden laughter is its own reward.
Try explaining that one to the landlord.