Kris Kristofferson: How to beat the devil

It was wintertime in Nashville Down on music city row, And I had to find a place to get Myself out of the cold To warm the frozen feeling That was eating at my bones, Keep the chilly wind off my guitar. My thirsty wanted whiskey My hungry needed beans, But it?d been a month of paydays Since I?d earned the equal scene So with a stomach full of empty And a pocket full of dreams I swallowed my pride and stepped inside a bar, Actually you?d call it a tavern Cigarette smoke to the ceiling Sawdust on the floor, friendly shadows I saw that there was just one old man sitting at the bar, And I could see him checking me and my guitar, He said, ?Come up here boy and show us what you are!? I said, ?I?m dry.? He bought me a beer. He looked at my guitar and said, ?It?s a tough life ain?it?? I look ed at him and he said, ?You aint making any money are you?? I said, ?You been reading my mail.? He just smiled and said, ?Let me see that guitar, I got something you oughta hear.? Then he laid it on me? If you waste your time talking to The people who won?t listen to The things that you are saying who Do you think?s gonna hear? And if you should die explaining how The things that they complain about Are things they could be changing, Who do you think?s gonna care? There were other lonely singers In a world turned deaf and blind Who were crucified For what they tried to show And their voices have been scattered by The swirling winds of time, Because the truth remains That no one wants to know. The old man was a stranger But I?d heard his workds before Back when failure had me locked out On the wrong side of the door, When no one stood beside me But my shadow on the floor And lonesome is more than a state of mind. See the devil haunts a hungry man If you don?t want to join him, You gotta beat him. I ain?t saying I beat the devil, But I drank his beer for nothing And then I stole his song? And you still can hear me singing to The people who won?t listen to The things that I am saying hoping Someone?s gonna hear? And I guess I?ll die explaining how The things that they complain about Are things they could be changing, Hoping someone?s gonna care? I was born a lonely singer And I?m bound to die the same But I?ve gotta feed the hunger in my soul And if I never have a nickel I won?t ever die ashamed, Because I don?t believe That no one wants to know."