It was my first night in that roomin` house,
in the last room down the hall.
I heard a hoarse voice, and an old guitar,
comin` through the paper thin walls.
A crazy nonsense nursery rhyme,
it did not mean a thing.
But for the first of what was to be a thousand times,
this is what I heard him sing.
Hold that "D" chord on the old guitar,
`till I find the "G."
Drop it down to old "E" minor,
`till the "A" chord rolls back home around to "D."
I had to lay there listening, it seemed he was in the room.
The stranger with the melodies, singin` there in the gloom.
And he repeated it over and over again, such a soft and sinking sound.
It was kind of like a music box that was slowly windin` down.
And he sang it, he hummed it, he whistled it, and he strummed it.
He laughed it, and he cried it. He did anything but hide it.
Hold that "D" chord on the old guitar,
`till I find the "G."
Drop it down to old "E" minor,
`till the "A" chord rolls back home around to me.
So I lay there in that lumpy bed, counted Choruses instead of sheep,
`till I banged on the wall and out I called, "Hey bub, I need some sleep."
A sudden void of silence, then I heard that hoarse voice say,
"It weren`t so long ago, boy, they paid me to play.
So I said, "It`s kind of late for music, sir. Two hours `till it`s daylight."
He answered, "I need my music most in these dark hours of the night.
You see I`ve tried gettin` high on somethin`, son; it only brings me down.
Stayin` dry don`t work out better, boy, `cause my eyes get wet and I drown.
Won`t you please let me continue, and I`ll be in your debt.
You see I`m not singin` to remember, son. I`m just singin` to forget.
Hold that "D" chord on the old guitar,
`till I find the "G."
Drop it down to old "E" minor,
`till the "A" chord rolls back home around to me.
That`s when I said, if I`m supposed to listen to you, sir,
one quick question, then.
Why in the hell do you sing one song, over and over again?
spoken And this is what he said.
I gave her the music, son. She gave me the words.
Together we`d write the kinds of songs the angels must have heard.
Of course, we`d fight like cats and dogs; life ain`t no rosebud dream.
Still, where ever we`d go, everybody`d know, we were truly a team.
I can`t remember now if I`d done her wrong, or if she`d done wrong to me.
Still, all I know is when I let her go, it did not set me free.
That`s when I said, "You sound like what`s-his-name."
He said, "That`s who I am.
But you can`t wrap a name around you boy,
`cause it really don`t mean a damn.
You see, a song don`t have no meanin`, when it don`t have nothin` to say.
What she could do was magic, son. All I can do is play.
He started singin` again, that`s when I drifted off,
and maybe I`d dreamed what I`d heard,
about the stranger with the melodies,
who`d gone and lost the words.
Hold that "D" chord on the old guitar,
`till I find the "G."
Drop it down to old "E" minor,
`till the "A" chord rolls back home around to "D."