I come fresh from the street,

fast on my feet, kind a lean and lazy;

not much meat on my bones, and a whole lot alone,

and more than a little bit crazy.

The old six string was all I had

to keep my belly still,

and for each full hour lesson I gave

I got a crisp ten dollar bill.



She was married for seven years

to a concrete castle king.

She said she wanted to learn to play the guitar

and to hear her children sing.

So I'd show up about once a week

in my faded tight-legged jeans

with a backlog full of hobo stories

and dilapidated dreams.



She said, "I wanna learn a love song full of happy things."

She said, "I wanna learn a love song; won't you let me hear you sing?"

She said, "I wanna learn a love song, I wanna hear you play."

She said, "I wanna learn a love song before you go away."



So I tried to teach her a couple of chords

and an easy melody;

but it always turned out she'd rather listen

to my guitar and me.

I could hear her old man laughing in the den,

playing stud poker with the boys

while I sang so soft in the living room,

to scared to make much noise.

I came one week and the den was dark

and she met me at the door.

And we sat on the couch and we sang and talked

till I could not sing no more.

The silence kept on building,

her eyes grew much too wide;

and I could her both of our heartbeats,

but there was no place to hide.



She said, "I wanna learn a love song full of happy things."

She said, "I wanna learn a love song; won't you let me hear you sing?"

She said, "I wanna learn a love song, I wanna hear you play."

She said, "I wanna learn a love song before you go away."





Well, I guess you know what happened,