The man who trusted other people
The man who had trust in other men
He was there to share and mingle
simply doing what he can

Sings blues and soul out of his gut
wishing for eye connection
He used to walk in mud
dead bodies and war infection

His guitar spoke a foreign language
One that I could not define
His voice was carrying a heavy luggage
lost in memories, hard to find

He was that kind of men
who would lend me his guitar
who would show his deepest scar
without doubting the brightness of his star