You walk in a tavern and you order yourself a drinknnAnd wonder if she brings the glassnnYou try to imagine what kind of person had a drink from at lastnnWas he a rich man who stopped in on his way to make another big business dealnnOr maybe just a poor man in old clothes who spent his last hard earned dollar billnnWas he dreamin' of his future or drawnin' his past or maybe just spendin' some timennA meetin' his sweetheart or somebody's wifennOr a barmaid he couldn't get off his mindnnHow many times did he refill the glass or just how long did he staynnAnd just how much money did he leave behind before he finally went on his waynnDid he drink up the groceries or maybe the rent or even the baby's new pair of shoesnnAnd what kind of music I wonder did he use to playnnI'm sure his selection was the bluesnnThis glass has been held in the hands of a hundred or so at one timennAnd been pressed to the lips of the fairest young girlnnWho sat there sippin' on beer whiskey or winennGod just what would happened if this glass could talk and let the secret come truennI guess it's better that he'd never learned it might mean trouble for younnn