Song #180

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About this song

From Tales from the Decryption. The ghost of an old Dust Bowl songwriter pulls up a chair at a Texas keyboard and watches a song get made in two minutes: no road, no blisters, just a notion and a press of the heart button.

Lyrics

[Intro]
[Harmonica]

[Verse 1 - Spoken]
Well, I blew back in through Texas, like the dust in thirty-five,
Found a fella at a keyboard, buzzin' busy as a hive.
He was makin' up a song, so I pulled me up a chair—
Took him maybe two, three minutes. I'd hardly settled there.

Nobody picked a guitar. Nobody blew a harp.
Nobody's fingers bleedin'. Nobody singin' sharp.
He just typed a little notion, 'bout the size of a postcard,
Then he pressed a little heart... and he didn't press it hard.

[Chorus]
Anybody caught a-singin' it
Is a friend of mine, I swear—
But somebody's gotta write it,
Somebody's gotta be there.

[Verse 2 - Spoken]
He showed me all his songs up on a thing called a "web site."
Now, I seen a lot of webs in barns, but none that lit at night.
Hundred seventy-some songs, hangin' out there in a row,
Like the washin' on a line behind a Hooverville, you know.

Now, I ain't one to preach, friend—I was a song-a-day man too.
Wrote twenty-six in a month once, for a river and her crew.
But I rode out every mile of it, till my boot soles wore clean through.
This fella's made a hundred seventy, and he ain't wore out a shoe.

[Chorus]
Anybody caught a-singin' it
Is a friend of mine, I swear—
But somebody's gotta write it,
Somebody's gotta be there.

[Verse 3 - Spoken]
I asked him 'bout the words, and he kinda looked away,
Said there's a fella in the box that helps him find what he wants to say.
Now, that fella's mighty clever, he can rhyme you up a plate,
But he ain't never been hungry, and he never caught a freight.

So I asked him, "What's the hard part?" and he thought a little while,
Said, "Gettin' half an idea... then pressin' that heart." And he smiled.
Well, I painted on my guitar what that machine was for.
Yours don't need a guitar, friend. And it don't need me no more.

[Bridge - Sung, slower]
I stole my share of melodies
From the hymnbook and the radio,
And when my hands got to shakin'
And the chords just wouldn't go,
I'd have took most any help at all
To finish one more song—
So I ain't come to judge you, friend,
I just come to pass along:

[Spoken]
The hard part was the part that made it yours.
The blisters were the signature.

[Verse 4 - Spoken]
Well, he played it back for me, and it didn't sound half bad—
Had a voice from Oklahoma, kinda like the voice I had.
But 'fore this one quit a-playin', he was cookin' up the next,
And this one's gatherin' dust already. Lord, I know the dust the best.

[Final Chorus]
Anybody caught a-singin' it
Is a friend of mine, I swear—
But somebody's gotta write it...
Somebody's gotta be there.

[Outro - Spoken]
Oh—and that voice you been hearin'?
It ain't mine, either.

[Harmonica]
[End]

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