Guy Clark, R.I.P.

A friend, a songwriter of unsurpassed genius. Go with God, brother. Say "hi" to Merle for me.

The Guitar

Well, I was passing by a pawn shop

In an older part of town

Something caught my eye

And I stopped and turned around

I stepped inside and there I spied

In the middle of it all

Was a beat up old guitar

Hanging on the wall.

What do you want for that piece of junk

I asked the old man

He just smiled and took it down

and he put it in my hand

He said you tell me what it's worth

You're the one who wants it

Turn it up, play a song

And let's just see what haunts it

So I hit a couple of cords

In my old country way of strumming

And then my fingers turned to lightning

Man...I never heard it coming

It was like I always knew it

I just don't know where I learned it

It wasn't nothin' but the truth

So I just reared back and burned it

Well I lost all track of time

There was nothing I couldn't pick

Up and down the neck

I never missed a lick

The guitar almost played itself

There was nothing I could do

It was getting hard to tell

Just who was playing who

When I finally put it down

I couldn't catch my breath

My hands were shaking

And I was scared to death

The old man finally got up

Said where in the Hell you been

I've been waiting all these years

For you to stumble in

Then he took down an old dusty case

Said go on and pack it up

You don't owe me nothing

And then he said good luck

There was something spooky in his voice

And something strange on his face

When he shut the lid

I saw my name was on the case