Folk Singer

Folk Singer - Glen Campbell (格倫·坎貝爾)

Written by：Johnny Cash

As I walk these narrow streets where a million passin'

Feet are before me

With my guitar in my hand suddenly I realize nobody

Knows me

Well yesterday the motor toots screamed and cried my name

Out for a song

Now the streets are empty and the crowds they go

On home

With the rain on my face there's no place where

I belong

And my whole life consists of a story of poem

At a song

Now the truths I've tried to tell you are as

Distant as the moon

More than hundred years too late two hundred years too

Soon

I'm a child of the sage

Lord's been in the

Pages of a book

But when I'm dust and clay

Where other people stop

And to look

And will they marvel and the miracles

And perform into the

High size to spider

Oh will they take the pages of the book

To light of fire

With the rain on my face

There's no place where

I belong