Ozzie's Guitar

Ozzie drove an El Camino
cuffed the hems of his navy chinos
man alive, could grandpa drive--
odd jobs from here to Reno
livin' light, heck if we know
how or why, but he was alive
And every time that Ozzie’d come around
his bags were dusty with the gravel roads
of a thousand little towns
we saw the world, we traveled far
on the silver strings of Ozzie’s guitar
It was a six-string La Valenciana
with my teeth brushed and my warm pajamas
I was «good to go» for granddad’s show
well we’d ride the rails, we’d waltz across Texas
his fingers danced till our hearts would break, his
voice would soar then swoop down low
And every time that Ozzie’d come around
his bags were dusty with the gravel roads
of a thousand little towns
we saw the world, we traveled far
on the silver strings of Ozzie’s guitar
Well, some days, I miss the rhythm
of a highway song, and I want to be with him
oh, it ain’t long till I find that guitar
it never held its tune so good
it’s just some rusty keys and weathered wood
but there’s an open road in every scar
And every time that Ozzie’d come around
his bags were dusty with the gravel roads
of a thousand little towns
we saw the world, we traveled far
on the silver strings of Ozzie’s guitar