Guitar Picker

I remember back when I was sixteen
I was sittin' around pickin', just my pops and me
When his friend walked up in a cowboy hat
Said "I like what your doin', but it ain't worth sap
I see this road will leave you cold and alone
Old and broke and just a bag of bones
So you better take heed to the words I say
Stay quite clear of that lost highway"

O southern wind, won't you take me high?
I got seven ladies dancin' naked by an old camp fire
Guitars pickin' with a bottle of wine
And I'll be an old broke guitar picker, lord, when I die

Holes in my clothes, I got holes in my shoes
I got a hole in the heart, that's why I'm singin' the blues
I put some change in my pocket but it's all gone
And everything that I do it seems to be wrong
So now I'm broke I'm back on the street
With a guitar case in front of Tate and me
And you better listen up 'cause it ain't no lie
Please throw a nickel in when you walk by

O southern wind, won't you take me high?
It's hard to keep rollin' when all you got is black times
Guitars pickin' with a bottle of wine
I'll be an old broke guitar picker, lord, when I die

I came in this world with nothin' on my back
And I'll leave the same and that's a fact
I ain't in it for the money, I ain't in it for the fame
And I don't really care if you remember my name
So now I gotta to go, I gotta hit the road
I gotta do the only thing that I know
I got this feelin' deep down and I got to be true
And I sure as hell ain't gonna change for you

O southern wind wont you take me high
When I hear the sounds comin' from an amplifier
Guitars pickin' with a bottle of wine
And I'll be an old broke guitar picker, lord