Old man sittin' on a dock, fretting that national steelFeedin' the water, hands on the metal, playin' it all by feelHe got nothin' but time and a changin' tideThe pull of the moon and the spinnin' of the earthBlind since birthOld man sittin' on a crate with a amped-up silver toneWhen he reaches for that bottleneck slide, makes you sugar and moanBlue notes float like puffs of smokeHe pulls another lucky from the pocket of his shirtBlind since birthBlind since birthAt the state-run school, age is oldCheap six-string, so the story goesBlind since birthBlind since birthBlind since birthOld man sittin' in the dark, fretting that national steelGot his feet on the floor, hands on the metal, playin' it all by feelBlue notes cry, scream and sighTill his fingers bleed and his backbone hurtsBlind since birthBlind since birthBlind since birthBlind since birthBlind since birth© transcript Emily Beynon