Text: Guess Who. Lightfoot.
Sidemen come out first, John Stockfish bass guitar
Looks at the world through the eyes of Nashville
The Riverboat and Charlie McCoy, he's just a boy
The lead guitarist Red Shea
Who's really come a long, long way
Since rhythm rocker jingle jangle and go red
And Lightfoot, Edwardian, suddenly striped
His hair blondish and poetic, he is less than vinyl perfect
His foot is a precise anchor for the husk and vibrance of his voice
He is the image of Alberta
The side street near Chicago
The grim beauty of Toronto
He is an artist, he is an artist
He is an artist painting Sistine masterpieces of pine and fur and backwoods
Still echoes long ago the winter night of black July and then the outcome
Of an early Cleveland rainfall
I sit softly among the rest waiting there for him to paint his pictures
And as the go-go girl went round and our heads were in a spin
I thought about the Crossroads, in the early morning rain and Rosanna
I'm not saying that I'm sorry, I'm just telling you this story
And when Lightfoot's magic calls, you can write it on your walls
'Cause that's what walls are for
He is an artist, he is an artist
He is an artist painting Sistine masterpieces of pine and fur and backwoods
He is an artist, he is an artist
He is an artist painting Sistine masterpieces of pine and fur and backwoods
Still echoes long ago the winter night of black July and then the outcome
He is an artist
He is an artist painting masterpieces of pine
Looks at the world through the eyes of Nashville
The Riverboat and Charlie McCoy, he's just a boy
The lead guitarist Red Shea
Who's really come a long, long way
Since rhythm rocker jingle jangle and go red
And Lightfoot, Edwardian, suddenly striped
His hair blondish and poetic, he is less than vinyl perfect
His foot is a precise anchor for the husk and vibrance of his voice
He is the image of Alberta
The side street near Chicago
The grim beauty of Toronto
He is an artist, he is an artist
He is an artist painting Sistine masterpieces of pine and fur and backwoods
Still echoes long ago the winter night of black July and then the outcome
Of an early Cleveland rainfall
I sit softly among the rest waiting there for him to paint his pictures
And as the go-go girl went round and our heads were in a spin
I thought about the Crossroads, in the early morning rain and Rosanna
I'm not saying that I'm sorry, I'm just telling you this story
And when Lightfoot's magic calls, you can write it on your walls
'Cause that's what walls are for
He is an artist, he is an artist
He is an artist painting Sistine masterpieces of pine and fur and backwoods
He is an artist, he is an artist
He is an artist painting Sistine masterpieces of pine and fur and backwoods
Still echoes long ago the winter night of black July and then the outcome
He is an artist
He is an artist painting masterpieces of pine
Guess Who
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