Intro: | | | | Down the drainpipe cross the yard and through the fence I risked a whoopin' every time I went Cause white boys weren't allowed On the coloured side of town But I was proud to call That old black man my friend He had a pillow on the bed he used to pray on And a beat up old guitar he let me play on I knew where my fingers went >From his greasy fingerprints Yeah he was passing on What was handed down to him Chorus: And it soaked up all the blood and sweat and teardrops and the beers he missed in smokey little bars And sometimes that old man he comes alive in my hands I feel the beating of his sad old broken heart Just like there's a ghost in this guitar A ghost in this guitar Well the night before he died he made me take it He said "You play it know 'cause I gotta go And I can feel him in my fingers when I play it 'Cause sometimes I'm in control And sometimes I just sit back And let him go Sit back and let him go Chorus