(Verse 1)

Old John, he's a legend, a fixture in town,

With a laugh that could chase any sad feeling down.

He's got stories for days, and a joke on his tongue,

The life of the party, from old to the young.

He'll spin you a yarn 'til your sides ache and cramp,

Always the last one to turn off the lamp.

(Chorus)

But when the last note fades, and the last guest takes flight,

John locks up the door to the quiet of night.

Another good time, another big show,

But no steady hand, no soft voice, whispering low.

Just the hum of the fridge and the clock on the wall,

A life full of surface, answering freedom's call.

(Verse 2)

His workshop's alive with the scent of fresh pine,

Crafting old oak into something divine.

He's got hands that can carve, and an eye for the grain,

Turning cast-off old dressers to profit and gain.

And his bass guitar hums with a rumble and thrum,

Practicing riffs for the summers to come.

(Chorus)

'Cause when the last note fades, and the last guest takes flight,

John locks up the door to the quiet of night.

Another good time, another big show,

But no steady hand, no soft voice, whispering low.

Just the hum of the fridge and the clock on the wall,

A life full of surface, answering freedom's call.

(Bridge)

He banks every penny, for journeys up north,

To Canadian stages, where rock anthems burst.

With guitars that wail and drums that just pound,

Lost in the music, no worry profound.

He lives for those moments, the roar of the crowd,

His freedom a banner, flying high and proud.

(Verse 3)

But sometimes a stillness descends in his soul,

A yearning for depth that can make him feel whole.

He watches the couples, hand-in-hand, walking by,

A flicker of longing, a tear in his eye.

Has he waited too long, let the seasons all run?

Will a deeper connection forever be done?

(Chorus)

Still, when the last note fades, and the last guest takes flight,

John locks up the door to the quiet of night.

Another good time, another big show,

But no steady hand, no soft voice, whispering low.

Just the hum of the fridge and the clock on the wall,

A life full of surface, answering freedom's call.

(Outro)

Yet somewhere, perhaps, in a town far or near,

Is a woman who longs for a man just as clear.

Who sees past the laughter, the surface, the fun,

To the steady, deep heart of a soul truly won.

Maybe the right one is looking, it's true,

For John and his bass, and a love that is new.