Balanced on his stool, br Guitar cradled lankly br Between arms and knee, br He strokes the strings with eyes closed br And rocks himself to singing, br Spirit winging br Skyward if the bar were open-air. br But dark and smoky, br This gloomy cave traps him br As it breathes cool, lime fragrance br Into the street, inviting company br With a splash of laughter br And his strumming br Each time the heavy doors swing open. br He gathers us all to him with his welcome br And tries to take us with him br When he soars. br But our weighty wants br Only keep him earthbound br So we can hear his songs br A little longer.