Hey Mister Guitar, man, please play me your blues.
Tell me again the story of the days of old
when the grass was green
and my loved folks were young.

Hey Mister Guitar, please play me your song.
Sing me about the times
when everything seemed possible
an the future was wide open.

You don't care about the shit outta here.
You just let your six strings ring
on a sexy body of mahagony.

At your time the dreams were colored:
a guitar, three chords and the truth
was all you needed to live.

Me, I wish I lived then.
I actually did.
But then I only was a kid
but one of that period.
That's why I live the way I do
and play the songs I love.

Cause this is what' I've learned.
It was the flavour of my mother's milk.
I don't care how you name it:
stupid, retro, indie, neo or prog.
These are only names
and names are just obvious schmuck.

To me, it's my way to live
with the music and the magic
paired with sex, drugs and a bit of rock.
And after all the eternal truth
of a guitar gently weeping.
And therefore I'm asking you:

Hey Mister Guitar, man, please play me your tune
for that I can learn a lot
about yesterday, today and tomorrow
and how to live in the power of yer sound.

Hey Mister Guitar, man, do it again.
I wanna learn to handle my life
being inspired by the sound of wildness
and doing a good job.

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