Текст: Kris Kristofferson. The Austin Sessions. To Beat The Devil.

It was winter time in Nashville down on Music 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
And keep the chilly wind off of my guitar
My thirsty wanted whiskey and my hungry needed beans
But it'd been a month of payday since I 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 call it a tavern
Cigarette smoke to the ceiling sawdust on the floor friendly shadows
I saw that there was just an old man sittin' at the bar
In the mirror I could see him checkin' me and my guitar
And he turned and said come up here boy and show us which you are
I said I'm dry he bought me a beer
He nodded at my guitar and he said it's a tough life ain't it
I just looked at him and he said you ain't makin' any money are you
I said you been readin' my mail
He just smiled and said let me see that guitar
I got somethin' you oughta hear then he laid it on my ear
When you waste your time a talkin' to the people who don't listen
To the things that you are saying who do you thinks gonna hear
And if you should die explaining how the things that they complain about
Are the things they could be changin' who do you thinks gonna care
There were other lonely singers and they would turned deaf and blind
They were crucified for what they tried to show
And their voices have been scattered by the swirling winds of time
For the truth remains that no one wants to know

Well the old man was a stranger but I'd've heard his song before
Back when failure had me locked out on the wrong side of the door
When nothin' 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
And if you don't wanna join him you gotta beat him
I ain't sayin' I beat the devil but I drink his beer for nothin' then I stole his song
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
I guess I'll die explaining how the things that they complain about
Are things they could be changing hoping someone's gonna care
I was born a lonely singer and I'm bound to die the same
But I gotta feed the hunger in my soul
And if I never have a nickel I won't even die in shame
Cause I don't believe that no one wants to know