Johnny's Blues: The Journey's End

Johnny walked into the juke joints, guitar in his hand, Listening to the greats, in this dusty old land, He'd sit in the shadows, watchin' every move, Taking notes in his mind, on how to find his groove. Oh, Johnny's blues, a tale of rise and fall, Learning from the masters, he answered every call, But when he reached the summit, with nothing left to prove, Johnny's heart was empty, with no more paths to choose. He learned from Blind Willie, how to bend them strings, From Mississippi Fred, how to make that guitar sing, Big Mama Thornton showed him, how to pour out his soul, And from Lightnin' Hopkins, he took that deep, deep roll. Oh, Johnny's blues, a tale of rise and fall, Learning from the masters, he answered every call, But when he reached the summit, with nothing left to prove, Johnny's heart was empty, with no more paths to choose. In every town and city, Johnny made his name, Playing every stage, his talent brought him fame, But the fire in his heart, it started to fade, Without the masters' shadows, his purpose decayed. Now Johnny stands alone, the king without a crown, He's reached the highest peak, but now he looks down, The blues he'd once embraced, now leave him feeling cold, For in his search for greatness, he'd lost his very soul. Oh, Johnny's blues, a tale of rise and fall, Learning from the masters, he answered every call, But when he reached the summit, with nothing left to prove, Johnny's heart was empty, with no more paths to choose. He walked down those empty streets, guitar slung low, Searching for a purpose, where did his passion go? In the silence of the night, he'd play a lonely tune, For the ghosts of his heroes, under a pale, pale moon. Oh, Johnny's blues, a tale of rise and fall, Learning from the masters, he answered every call, But when he reached the summit, with nothing left to prove, Johnny's heart was empty, with no more paths to choose. So Johnny roams the night, with his guitar in hand, Playing songs of sorrow, in this empty, empty land, For in his search for wisdom, he'd found a lonely truth, That the journey's what mattered, not the proof.