Guitar Man - Kip Moore

Well, I woke to the rise, sun going down

Still taste the whiskey, still fresh on my mouth

Hot cup of coffee, smoke in my hand

Another day in the life of the guitar man

La de da

Well last night was a good night as I reached in my jeans

Crumpled up ones, a few tens in between

And a red head named Annie, she’s still fast asleep

Made me make her a promise, she knows I can’t keep

La de da

Time to fire up that two tone bucket of rust

Throw my amp and my case in the back of my truck

Breathing my freedom, windows rolled down

Forty-six miles till the next nameless town

La de da

Well, the place is still empty when I walk in the door

Stench from the beer, spilling up through the floor

Give an eye to sweet Lisa, she mixes the drinks

Life’s been hard on her, but she’s been good to me

La de da

Off in the shadows

Stands a stool and a stage

Where many souls before me were put on display

I take one last breath, time to pay some more dues

That won’t add up to nothing but tips and cheap booze

Yeah, the fruits of my labor is when the crowd sings along

Nothing short of a savior, still I go home alone

I’m an empty, faceless spotlight mike-stand

I’ll getcha high, I’ll getcha low

I’m the guitar man

Well they’ll ask for more love songs and I’ll play with a smile

To help them hold on or forget for a while

They can fill up that jukebox with a week’s worth of pay

But it can’t fill their happy and it can’t fill their pain

No drums, no pianos, no sweet harmonies

It’s all in a song and it’s all on me

Won’t find nothing fancy I’m a tired one man band

I’m the picking and grinning guitar man

Yeah the fruits of my labor’s when the crowd sings along

Nothing short of a savior I go home alone

I’m an empty, faceless spotlight mic-stand

I’ll getcha high, I’ll getcha low, I’m the guitar man yeah

Well I had me a pretty baby, thought she was the one

But she soon grew tired, this love on the run

Said she felt second, told me I had to choose

She’s back in Georgia and I’m there with you

The end of the night, we’ll all be best friends

Then strangers till I roll through town again

I’ll yell out hey Lisa something cold in a can

One for the road for the guitar man

Yeah the fruits of my labor’s when the crowd sings along

Nothing short of a savior still I go home alone

I’m an empty, faceless spotlight mic-stand

I’ll getcha high, I’ll getcha low, I’m the guitar man yeah

I’ll play em fast, I’ll play em slow, I’m the guitar man

Yeah