In a lazy little town just about a mile from nowhere
There's an old man sitting under a shady tree
As the hot sun makes its round he just sits there on the ground
In the shade he can let his mind run free
Inside his head there's music playing
Old time songs way from good days gone by
Sometimes he smiles at the echo of a saying
Sometimes he looks up to the sky
On the porch across the street, in a red old rocking chair
Sweet old women keeps looking at the shady tree
As the evening sun goes down, old man gets up from the ground
She smiles she knows his mind is free
Inside his head there's music playing
Old time songs way from good days gone by
Sometimes he smiles at the echo of a saying
Sometimes he looks up to the sky
There's an old man sitting under a shady tree
As the hot sun makes its round he just sits there on the ground
In the shade he can let his mind run free
Inside his head there's music playing
Old time songs way from good days gone by
Sometimes he smiles at the echo of a saying
Sometimes he looks up to the sky
On the porch across the street, in a red old rocking chair
Sweet old women keeps looking at the shady tree
As the evening sun goes down, old man gets up from the ground
She smiles she knows his mind is free
Inside his head there's music playing
Old time songs way from good days gone by
Sometimes he smiles at the echo of a saying
Sometimes he looks up to the sky
( B.B. Driftwood )
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