You walk in a tavern and you order yourself a drink

And wonder if she brings the glass

You try to imagine what kind of person had a drink from at last

Was he a rich man who stopped in on his way to make another big business deal

Or maybe just a poor man in old clothes who spent his last hard earned dollar bill

Was he dreamin' of his future or drawnin' his past or maybe just spendin' some time

A meetin' his sweetheart or somebody's wife

Or a barmaid he couldn't get off his mind

How many times did he refill the glass or just how long did he stay

And just how much money did he leave behind before he finally went on his way

Did he drink up the groceries or maybe the rent or even the baby's new pair of shoes

And what kind of music I wonder did he use to play

I'm sure his selection was the blues

This glass has been held in the hands of a hundred or so at one time

And been pressed to the lips of the fairest young girl

Who sat there sippin' on beer whiskey or wine

God just what would happened if this glass could talk and let the secret come true

I guess it's better that he'd never learned it might mean trouble for you