Pawn Shop Guitar

Pawned my high school ring my freshman year in college
Traded my education for some six-string knowledge
Old man behind the counter said kid this'll take you far
If you listen to the whispers
In this pawn shop guitar

I came to Music City with some songs
Burning a hole in my pocket
They slammed the door in my face
But I kept on a knocking
Another cowboy on Broadway
Sleepin' in my car
With the whisper
In my pawn shop guitar

Old man said with wood and steel you can get the girl
Where it's broken your song can heal the world
To thine own self be true
Be who you are
Flying on the whispers
In this pawn shop guitar

It was the best of times and the worst of times
Singin' on street corners for dollars, quarters and dimes
Desperate, I pawned my guitar for fifty bucks
Man, she was long gone when I went back to pick her up

With wood and steel you can sing Willie, Waylon, and Merle
Where it's broken your song can heal the world
Yeah, to thine own self be true
Be who you are
Flying on the whispers
In this pawn shop guitar

And I didn't know if I would ever write again
And one night in a bar the old man stumbled in
Threw a hundred-dollar bill and drew a sharpie heart
On a note he wrote: That's where the good songs are

In every airport lounge, street corner, and every bar
I put a Ben Franklin in every kid's pickle tip jar
And I write a note with a big red sharpie heart
That's where the good songs are
In the never-say-dier, the soul of a songwriter
And a pawn shop guitar