The fiddler plays his fiddle,
he knows he's caught somewhere
in the middle.
He's caught up in a war he didn't start,
the one between the devil and God.
Jokers to the right,
he knows real men do fright,
but it's own with the fight.

The tunes he's playing,
their melody flow out saying,
I'm just a fiddler strumming,
 Lord your world sure is numbing.
I'm numb to the sad,
in this life it seems I've been had.
But don't get me wrong,
I still play a happy song.

Some days I can't get with what I play,
but I strum on anyway.
I'm afraid if I quit playing,
my life might start decaying.
I'm surely hip to the decay,
but 
I will not let it interfer
with my play.