(Verse 1) Down by the river, where the red clay runs, He sits with his banjo, waitin’ for the sun. The strings are rusty, but they still know his pain, Every note he’s pickin’ sounds like a lonesome train. (Chorus) He’s the blues man — and his banjo cries, A song for the broken, beneath southern skies. He don’t need no money, don’t need no plan, Just the blues in his heart, and that five-string in his hand. (Verse 2) He played in the shadows, outside every bar, A hat full of nickels and an old cigar. Folks stop and listen, then they move along, But that banjo keeps talkin’ long after they’re gone. (Chorus) He’s the blues man — and his banjo sighs, Whisperin’ stories where the truth still lies. He don’t need no mercy, don’t need no band, Just the blues in his veins, and that five-string in his hand. (Bridge) Sometimes the moon, she hums along, Sometimes the night steals half his song. But come the morning, with the dew on the sand, He’s still pickin’ slow with that banjo in his hand. (Final Chorus) He’s the blues man — and the dawn don’t care, Playin’ to the ghosts that still linger there. No fame, no glory, just an honest man, With the blues in his soul — and that five-string in his hand.
