He sits with the guitar on his knee
Thinking of love that he's had
If it makes a sound he writes it down
He's the songwriter.

He's trying to paint
Little pictures of mountains
Turn little teardrops into mighty fountains
He's the songwriter.

He smiles at the good lines
Frowns at the bad lines
Cries with the sad parts, rewrites the bad parts
He's the songwriter.

He looks through the window of life
Some people think he's a joke
But who can tell the thing might sell
He's the songwriter.

He's trying to paint
Little pictures of mountains
Turn little teardrops into mighty fountains
He's the songwriter.

Thank you for hearing my tune
Now I'll get out of your room
It's late you know I've got to go
I'm a songwriter, mhm, mhm...