paroles de chanson To Beat the Devil (Live at the Big Sur Folk Festival) - Kris Kristofferson
A
couple
of
years
back,
I
come
across
a
great
and
wasted
friend
of
mine
in
the
hallway
of
a
recording
studio;
and
while
he
was
reciting
some
poetry
to
me
that
he'd
written,
I
saw
that
he
was
about
a
step
away
from
dyin'
and
I
couldn't
help
but
wonder
why.
And
the
lines
of
this
song
occurred
to
me.
I'm
happy
to
say
he's
no
longer
wasted
and
he's
got
him
a
good
woman.
And
I'd
like
to
dedicate
this
to
John
and
June,
who
helped
show
me
how
to
beat
the
devil.
It
was
winter
time
in
Nashville,
down
on
music
city
row.
And
I
was
lookin'
for
a
place
to
get
myself
out
of
the
cold.
To
warm
the
frozen
feelin'
that
was
eatin'
at
my
soul.
Keep
the
chilly
wind
off
my
guitar.
My
thirsty
wanted
whisky;
my
hungry
needed
beans,
But
it'd
been
of
month
of
paydays
since
I'd
heard
that
eagle
scream.
So
with
a
stomach
full
of
empty
and
a
pocket
full
of
dreams,
I
left
my
pride
and
stepped
inside
a
bar.
Actually,
I
guess
you'd
could
call
it
a
Tavern:
Cigarette
smoke
to
the
ceiling
and
sawdust
on
the
floor;
Friendly
shadows.
I
saw
that
there
was
just
one
old
man
sittin'
at
the
bar.
And
in
the
mirror
I
could
see
him
checkin'
me
and
my
guitar.
An'
he
turned
and
said:
"Come
up
here
boy,
and
show
us
what
you
are."
I
said:
"I'm
dry."
He
bought
me
a
beer.
He
nodded
at
my
guitar
and
said:
"It's
a
tough
life,
ain't
it?"
I
just
looked
at
him.
He
said:
"You
ain't
makin'
any
money,
are
you?"
I
said:
"You've
been
readin'
my
mail."
He
just
smiled
and
said:
"Let
me
see
that
guitar.
"I've
got
something
you
oughta
hear."
Then
he
laid
it
on
me:
"If
you
waste
your
time
a-talkin'
to
the
people
who
don't
listen,
"To
the
things
that
you
are
sayin',
who
do
you
think's
gonna
hear.
"And
if
you
should
die
explainin'
how
the
things
that
they
complain
about,
"Are
things
they
could
be
changin',
who
do
you
think's
gonna
care?"
There
were
other
lonely
singers
in
a
world
turned
deaf
and
blind,
Who
were
crucified
for
what
they
tried
to
show.
And
their
voices
have
been
scattered
by
the
swirling
winds
of
time.
'Cos
the
truth
remains
that
no-one
wants
to
know.
Well,
the
old
man
was
a
stranger,
but
I'd
heard
his
song
before,
Back
when
failure
had
me
locked
out
on
the
wrong
side
of
the
door.
When
no-one
stood
behind
me
but
my
shadow
on
the
floor,
And
lonesome
was
more
than
a
state
of
mind.
You
see,
the
devil
haunts
a
hungry
man,
If
you
don't
wanna
join
him,
you
got
to
beat
him.
I
ain't
sayin'
I
beat
the
devil,
but
I
drank
his
beer
for
nothing.
Then
I
stole
his
song.
Sung
And
you
still
can
hear
me
singin'
to
the
people
who
don't
listen,
To
the
things
that
I
am
sayin',
prayin'
someone's
gonna
hear.
And
I
guess
I'll
die
explaining
how
the
things
that
they
complain
about,
Are
things
they
could
be
changin',
hopin'
someone's
gonna
care.
I
was
born
a
lonely
singer,
and
I'm
bound
to
die
the
same,
But
I've
got
to
feed
the
hunger
in
my
soul.
And
if
I
never
have
a
nickel,
I
won't
ever
die
ashamed.
'Cos
I
don't
believe
that
no-one
wants
to
know.
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