Old guitarist

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Off a rusty forgotten roadway, 

Sat a lonely guitarist faraway 

All he knew was this wooden shop, 

Where he lived, sold and ate chop chop


Sunrays peek thru the holes

Natural grass glew at core

Happy, sad means nothing to him, 

Savings for tomorrow, are you kidding? 


Wonder why he remain here?

Where were his near and dear?

He would play all day, all week

Played he low and string several squeak 

His life pass like a fluid, 

And time, never he clued


"Old man, why aren't you bored ever?"

He strung a chord, oh he is clever!

"I am happy, eee, ee.. happy.."

He chorused in a sad melody... 


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