23 Scars on My Finger

Got 23 scars on my finger from pluckin’ a slapped back guitar.
Been 23 years and a lot of whisky in way too many bars.
Been on the road all my life waiting for the right card to turn.
I’ll keep on playing despite the luck. Momma said I’d never learn.

Got 23 scars on my finger, one for each year on the road.
Been playin’ songs for all that time and I got no doubt it has showed.
I was sixteen years and a couple of months when I last left my home.
I always meant to go back one day but can’t seem to stop my roam.

Got 23 scars on my finger, but not a place to lay my head.
Never could afford a motel room, let alone a bed.
So, I drift from north to south and east to west and back.
By the time you’ve heard about me. I’ll be a dozen miles down a track.

You may see my face in the window of a honkytonk on the wrong side of town.
I’ll be the sad old drifter with a pleasant sort of frown.
It’s not that I’m sad, I chose this life as much as it chose me.
But I gotta focus on the things I’ve got as I make my way freely.

Those 23 scars on my finger represent the life I’ve led.
Those 23 scars on my finger say the things I haven’t said.
So, drop a dollar in the jar and the next time that you pray.
Send one up to heaven, may the Lord guide the words I say.

I know I’m not the best man. All those scars sure make that clear.
And every one of those scars come with all the years.
Those 23 scars on my finger from pluckin’ my slapped back guitar.
Somehow, I know they guide me like the shimmering of a star.