He left behind the crowds
The critical acclaim
The write-ups and reviews
He left behind his name

He brought his old guitar
His sweet and soulful voice
And he took to the road
To make another choice

Troubadour, Troubadour
Knowing somewhere there is so much more

He traveled cross the sea
He traveled cross the land
Just living by his wits
A guitar in his hands

He gave it all to faith
And rode a rhythm true
In the current of his songs
Where winds of chance blow through

The heart of a Troubadour, Troubadour
Knowing in his soul there’s so much more

(Bridge)  You can hear him in the subway station
                 Streets of Paris or the train to Rome
                 Where he listens for a destination
                 Inspiration heard by him alone
                 He sings in poetry and allegory
                 Strumming on the steps of Amsterdam
                 Weaving chords into a gift of story
                 Grief and glory falling from his hands
                 His hands

And in the passing crowd
Where he stands to perform
A few may stop and hear
Something, somehow transform

For some it’s just a flash
A moment eye to eye
For some, a shining jewel
Revealed in passing by

The heart of a Troubadour, Troubadour
Knowing in his soul there’s so much more

The heart of a Troubadour, Troubadour
Finding in his journey so much more
Finding in his journey so much more