Walkin’ to the job in the rain, every time, thinkin’ I ain’t gonna do this no more, knowin’ that I’m lyin’t myself all over again.
Rain comin’ down so hard and so cold, an’ it makes this old man feel so old, but I know I’ll feel better with a coffee, an’ outta this cold.
An’ it’s been so long I been doin’ thisaway, same old same old, every damn day, walkin’ here, playin’ there, oh, it sure does bring on the pain.
But I got no choice, don’ know nothin’ else,- never got no learnin’ for to help myself, just got this old guitar and walkin’ the road again.
Man in a pickup pulled over to me, said to get in, it’s rainin’, can’t ya see? I thanked him kindly, and climbed on into the dry.
I leaned back against the cracked leather seat, sure felt good to get off my feet, wasn’t sure what to talk about, so I just looked out at the sky.
He dropped me off at the crossroads in town, I just kept pickin’ ‘em up, an’ puttin’ ‘em down, walkin’ like I been doin’ for near most all of my life.
Getting’ to feel old some, now, but this walkin’ just seems what is right, somehow. Sometimes I wonder if I’d of been happier with a home and a wife.
But I done give that idea up for good, like my pappy before me, he said I would, an’ I guess he knew me better then than I do now. This guitar is more to me than trustin’ a woman.
All I ever learn for sure was how the road can turn, how the rain can wet, how the cold can hurt, and how the sun can burn.
Once in a while there’s a nice person, and that makes you understand that not everyone is down on you. But you gotta take care not to relax too much, ‘cause sure as sin, it’ll hit you when you ain’t lookin’.
This sure ain’t what no one was plannin’ for me, when I came into this world 84 years ago, but you don’t know nothin’ when you be brand new,- only a warm breast when you hungry, an’ a sugar tit when you cry, an’ your mama’s prayers up to heaven that you get a better life than she had… and later on in life, you try.
Ain’t no shame in not makin’ it good in this old world. Lots of folks try an’ they get nowhere fast, an’ lots of folks try an’ gets on the wrong side, an’ they do time, or they be killed. Guess I can’t be mad at myself for what I am, as I’m walkin’, but I’m free to do that.
Some folks try to looksee into the bottom of a bottle, like mebbe there’s an answer down there, but there ain’t. But for them the likker feels good goin’ down, and they find it ain’t so bad layin’ down, an’ they fool theyselves to thinkin’ they be fine.
Whiskey or funny cigarettes or bad womens be the ruin of lots of men, but I been lucky to be hapy with my coffee an’ my music, even though I gots no jingle in my pocket, or a fancy place to live. But I gots lots of tomorrows to look forward to, an’ that’s plenty ‘nough for me, an’ I don’t need no nevermuch else, really, when you think on it.
Yeah, it might be it ain’t much, but I’m thinkin’ it’s all good.