Old Harmonica

I know a man who plays an old harmonica
It sings the blues so he don't have to
He lost his voice and he blames America
Says it don't sing the songs it used to
His harp his heart is hardly handling the draws
That seventh hole don't stay in tune
It's getting hard to use his tongue to block what he don't want
And he's well aware the truth

And he told me son
I'll be dead soon
He said I'll be done
By the next moon
So you take my harp
And don't you shake it out
Don't need you to take it far
But the next town

He said I know a guy who plays this old harmonica
He'll say he don't know who I am
Or else he'll ask if I am back in America
Still thinks he's fighting Vietnam
You give him my harp and it should bring him back home
For a minute or two, but don't stay long
You give him my harp, and he'll know what you know
For a minute or two, then he'll be gone

So you listen, son
I'll be dead soon
He said, "I'll be done
By the next moon
So you take my harp
And don't you shake it out
Don't need you to take it far
But the next town

I knew a man who played this old harmonica
It played the blues so you didn't have to
It sang the wordless songs of modern America
About the truth of me and you
It sang a song about the darkest hours of the night
The sun had set and no one knew
It sang a song about how long it took for one to fly
From the hungry mouth to the polished shoe