Mr. Bluesman. Sambora. He was a man. A ramblin' man he was yes he was. Guitar in hand. His home was on the road and that's where he was. He's seen a thousand roads. He's been a million miles. And when he'd bend a note. A tear would fill my eyes. Where are you playin'. Mr. Bluesman. Mr. Bluesman. Town to town. Honkytonks and dives all look the same. His gipsy heart keeps his shadow ridin' through the rain. A graveyard full of scars. His life will paint his songs. 'Cause when you're on the road. There's nowhere you belong. You're just alone. Where are you playin'. Mr. Bluesman. Mr. Bluesman. I've paid some dues. Now I make my living as a music man. I play the blues. I guess the blues must be just what I am. A graveyard full of scars. His life will paint his songs. 'Cause when you're on the road. There's nowhere you belong. You're just alone. Where are you playin'. Mr. Bluesman. Mr. Bluesman.