rd Fret Intro: I used to hear him sing in a Bleeker Street bar On that tiny stage, with a borrowed guitar His voice cutting through like a speeding car Tearing through the deals of the brokers at the bar They sold everything for a Wall Street wage A rich man's money is a rich man's cage Pockets full of gold and a dead man's face There was life in those eyes, though there's not a trace Chorus:

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