jerry wallace – the song that nobody sings lyrics
the song that n-body sings
in the dr[c]y dusty desert a wild flower grows that pu[g7]ts all the others to sha[c]me,
far away in the desert where n-body goes the flo[g7]wer that has no na[c]me.
in the whisky soaked mind of an old minstrel man there’s a bal[g7]lad of peace and good w[c]ill,
a warm welcome song that the world wants to hear but the vo[g7]ice of the minstrel is st[c]ill.
so dr[c]ink to the wild flower n-body kn[g7]ows
and the sorrow that loneness brings
dr[c]ink to the dreamers who lose there way
an[f]d the son[g7]g that n-body sin[c]gs
there’s a bo[c]y from the land of the free and the brave who’s afr[g7]aid to go home in the da[c]rk,
his world is a room where a needle and spoon leave the de[g7]vil’s indelible ma[c]rk.
take a look at the strangers you p-ss on the street and the fa[g7]ces you see in the b[c]ar,
sometimes i wonder if god really knows ju[g7]st how lonely we ar[c]e. (chorus)
ta[c]ke a look at the women with nothing to say and the m[g7]an with nothing to gi[c]ve,
watching their dreams slip away and die when they ha[g7]d every reason to li[c]ve.
in the dr[c]y dusty desert a wild flower grows like the won[g7]derful dreams of the yo[c]ung,
and all that remains of the old minstrel man is a so[g7]ng that will never be su[c]ng. (chorus)
the[c]re’s a lonely old soldier who lives in a home that the cou[g7]ntry provides for old m[c]en,
staring at darkness and waiting in vain for the so[g7]und of a voice of a frie[c]nd.
if all of the children and poets and clowns and dre[g7]amers were banished from ea[c]rth,
if only the wise and the wealthy survived what wo[g7]uld tomorrow be wo[c]rth. (chorus)