Ballads of Broadway

Rhymes of rivers, roads, and rendezvous, Country soul entwined in every view. Dusty denim draped over well-worn seats, Every face in the crowd feels the heartbeats, Bartender listens as the jukebox repeats, Echoing dreams down Music City streets. In the corner booth with lights dim low, Neighbor Bob strums soft and slow, Long Island nights, his stage, his show, Melodies float where the sea breezes blow. From bar to bar, he travels wide, With a worn guitar always by his side, Singing tales of love, of pride, of pain, Each song a story, each note a chain. He fills the room with laughs and cheers, As folks drown sorrows, toast their beers, Bob’s voice, a balm to calm their fears, In every chord, his heart appears. Under that neon sign, where dreams are spun (dreams are spun) He tells of places that he has none (never has done) Yet his voice can take you there, through every line, We're all passengers on Bob's rhythm and rhyme, With a pluck of strings, he begins again (begins again), Playing anthems of women and men (woeful and zen), A jubilee of joy, lives interwoven, tight In honky-tonks and under twinkling night, He spins their yarns until the morning light, In Nashville, where dreams take flight. Orbiting stages on broad Broadway's stream, Bob's ballads bloom like the South's sweet dreams,