A, B, E, Em, G
Guitar in my hand, sidewalk is my stage.
Oh damn, here comes the man.
He said, "Move it boy, don't you play."
But I kept on playing 'cause that is what I do.
They put stripes across my back, chains on my feet, but my guitar is unpacked, and I'm
strummin' to the jailhouse beat.
We keep on playin' because that is what we do.