On the floor of the limo there's a bottle of whiskey A white Stetson hat with a fine feather band His face covered up with the two day old paper He's a songwriter legend that grey haired old man They don't say much to him he don't say much to them They wonder what goes on inside his old head Sometimes when they shake him tryin' to wake him He comes round so slowly they think that he's dead And you're not allowed to talk about Denver Colorado You're not allowed to talk about his first wife Joanne You're not allowed to talk about his first fiddle player Or anybody who ever worked in Elvis's band He motions the driver to get him some coffee He sits there and sips it his eyes on the floor When he's readin' his paper he sometimes looks angry He's still tryin' to figure out the Second World War He mentions Chicago the Opry and Wheeling His awards are all stacked in the box in his barn He made millions of dollars with a hoop and a holler Now he lives in a trailer on a five acre farm And you're not allowed to talk about... As the limo rolls on down the America's highways Just frames to the sign on the side of his car It says pickin' and singin' for any occasion the songwrittin' senior citizen star