Cigarettes and Gasoline

Walked into a pawn shop,
Tempted by the sign,
Cash for gold or your tambourine,
TVs and tools,
Outboards and jewels,
Smell the sweat, cigarettes and gasoline

Finally reached the man,
Clutching my guitar,
Sir, how much would my baby bring?
He offered forty dollars,
I said who do you think you are?
Still smell cigarettes and gasoline

So I went outside and played the blues,
For the people rolling by,
Watching for the cop who'd move me on,
He might say I'm homeless,
But I've still got my guitar,
Making tips every time I sing my songs

Not sure how I got here,
Just hit a slippery slope,
Hard to climb back up,
This guitar is my rope


I sit outside and play the blues,
For the people rolling by,
Watching for the cop who'd move me on,
He might say I'm homeless,
But I've still got my guitar,
Making tips every time I sing my songs

So now I'm on the corner,
Banging out a tune,
The case is open, have you got some beans,
Make that guitar work for me,
While I'm in the mood,
No more cigarettes and gasoline
No more cigarettes and gasoline