The Folk Singer Is Dead

The folk singer is dead in the back of the Greyhound bus
With lines on his face matching cracks on the seat.
The tired old boy can finally get some sleep.
The folk singer is dead in the back of the Greyhound bus.
The coroner came down and sighed as he wiped his head,
“His heart gave out after so many songs
When you walk this road, well you have to be strong.”
The folk singer is dead in the back of the Greyhound bus.
With callus on his fingers and whiskey on his breath,
A peaceful look as he slipped into death,
The folk singer is dead in the back of the Greyhound bus.

And how he missed that girl in the depths of his heart
Years and miles away – out of nowhere – the pain would just start
Cuz he never meant stay on the road so long
But she wasn’t far away when he played her song.
The folk singer is dead in the back of the Greyhound bus.

In dreams he’d remember the times he got so close
But fortune and fame were always up stream
And sometimes this world can be so damn mean.
The folk singer is dead in the back of the Greyhound bus.
They opened his bag and found a note stating if he died
To take his guitar and pass it along
To the woman who first put love in his song.
The folk singer is dead in the back of the Greyhound bus.

And to her address that guitar arrived.
She recalled his face. She broke down and cried.
There was a time in her life when they were meant to be
But she had her doubts so he set her free
The folk singer dead in the back of the Greyhound bus

Roll on folk singer. Play them one last song.
Roll on folk singer. Let that bus roll on.

The folk singer is dead in the back of the Greyhound bus
With lines on his face matching cracks on the seat.
The tired old boy can finally get some sleep.
The folk singer is dead in the back of the Greyhound bus
In the back of the greyhound bus
The back of the greyhound bus.

(c) DM Experience This Music LLC