Walkin' down the track
Guitar on my back
Wonderin' where the road's gonna take me next
Devil had a plan
Fiddle in his hand
Told me I would sing for his rock and roll band
Well I was born with marks
Little tiny scars
Shaped just like the hole on my guitar
Well I was born to sing the blues
Man that body stunk
Threw it in the trunk
Buried myself in that desert sun
Well I would die with marks
Many tiny scars
Teach me not to mess with the Devil's guitar
Well I would die to sing the blues
I was born to sing the blues
There's a ghost inside of me that I can't shake loose
I was born to sing the blues
I was born with marks
Little tiny scars
Shaped just like the hole on my guitar
There's a ghost inside of me that I can't shake loose
Robert Johnson's back and he walks in my shoes
I was born to sing the blues