I play three hours but no one hears
I get my tips and half off my beers
It's a lonely feeling in a crowded room
No one's listening but they'll all call the tune
The more I run the further I'm behind
And I still cry about John Prine
My mama loves me She can't understand
Why I write these songs with this drink in my hand
If daddy were livin' don't know what he'd say
Might watch the ball game in these places that I play
Don't believe in sin Still these sins are mine
And I still cry about John Prine
I'll wake tomorrow Maybe try again
Feeling like a cheap guitar or a dried up pen
Got a crazy hand and a shaking mind
And I still cry about John Prine
The more I run the further I'm behind
And I still cry about John Prine
I still cry about John Prine