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