we were scheduled to appear
At a little roadhouse called
A cinder block building with
straddle in the county line
and were remarkably mixed
There were truckers, bikers, drifters
and locals from the sticks
Each one meaner than a cougar in a cage
swaggered right up to the stage
He's got an autographed picture
I let the guitar do the talking
Yeah the whole place started rockin'
My fingertips they weren't stoppin'
And that big bad dude started boppin'
And they just let the guitar do the talkin'
And I never have been the
But I knew that I had me one good chance
Of getting that girl to dance
and let the guitar do the talking
Yeah, the whole place started rockin'
The fingertips, weren't stoppin'
And that pretty little thing started boppin'
No need to fuss, it stops quackin'
Just let the guitar do the
In a world of too many words
Sometimes your point is hard to get heard
But I think I've figured out a way
Of getting mine on through
I just strap it on, tune it up, dig it in,
the whole power on, count it off,
open up my heart and soul
And let the guitar do the talkin'
Yeah, the whole place started
Fingertips that weren't stoppin'
And everybody started boppin'
No need to fuss, stop squawkin'
Just let the guitar do the talkin'