Sometimes when all is well I smile and sing. Sometimes times are hard and though I sing it is whispered only to the wind. Under the fingertips of my right hand always lies those 6 strings. And in my ear, words ring truer than any I've heard before. All by chance perhaps but a different direction no less; this is the way in which I travel. Happy in your company but complete outwith it; this is the way in which I'm lonely.