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(Mary Chapin Carpenter)

He was a long tall stranger from way down south where he'd left his life behind
He had a big old Gibson and a pickup truck and Shenandoah eyes
And I remember him sitting in that local bar where I earned my pay each night
Singing my songs to empty chairs and going home half tight

So the nights rolled by like headlights shining on a lonesome strip of tar
I kept his words of kindness close to me like a pick on my guitar; And we
Talked about the singers and the songs we loved and the songs we'd most forgot
In that run-down bar they'd make last call and I'd never want to stop

'Cause I was living on nothing but a young girl's dreams
With my cowboy boots and my old six-string
Hitching my wagon to a star, dreaming of leaving those local bars
When I'd get him up at closing time for a couple of songs and a chance to shine
Like the star that he longed to be, he looked a helluva lot like me