Keith Urban - Ghost In This Guitar |
|
Ghost In This Guitar
Keith Urban Down the drain pipe, cross the yard and through the fence I risked a whoopin' every time I went 'Cause white boys weren't allowed on the colored side of town But I was proud to call that old black man my friend. He had a pillow by the bed he used to pray on I knew where my fingers went from his greasy fingerprints And a beat up old guitar he let me play on Yeah, he was passin' on what was handed down to him. And it soaked up all the blood and sweat and teardrops And sometimes that old man he comes alive in my hands I feel the beating of his sad old broken heart And the beers he missed in smokey little bars Just like there's a ghost in this guitar, a ghost in this guitar. Well, the night before he died he made me take it And I can feel him in my fingers when I play it He said, "You play it now, 'cause I gotta go" 'Cause sometimes I'm in control and sometimes I just sit back and let him go, Sit back and let him go. And it soaked up all the blood and sweat and teardrops And sometimes that old man he comes alive in my hands And the beers he missed in smokey little bars I feel the beating of his sad old broken heart Take a listen to the ghost in this guitar...Just like there's a ghost in this guitar, a ghost in this guitar. |
