You’ll never see him in the news
Picking a sweet song or playing the blues
What he’s got was so hard to find
But his guitar sings while his soul’s aside
He’s not too old, you see, It’s not the way it has to be
Chorus:
Raise your hands for the master of the strings
The crowd goes wild as his guitar he picks
Each and every note is worth a pound of gold
While the master of the string is playing his song
When he grew old he got obsessed
With being clever, being the best
What he’s got now doesn’t matter at all
The Master of the strings, a fool on his own
He’s not too old, you see, It’s not the way it has to be
Chorus
Bridge:
Love and happiness, never-ending things
Are slipping through the fingers
Of the Master of the Strings