In the corner of the street a man plays an old guitar Nobody notices him He continues to gaze at the stars The city's noise Is capable of drowning his voice. He plays without hesitation Never asking for attention. He can't afford anything new The kindest, give him a dollar or two. His lifestyle is frugal. They say he owned a fancy hotel. His strings are worn out but the sound is clear His only love is his beer. In the corner of the street, a man plays an old guitar The same one who never sang about his broken heart.