Kris Kristofferson - Tribute - A Song for the Troubadour

Kris Kristofferson was more than a songwriter—he was a poet of the people, capturing the raw essence of life’s struggles, triumphs, and heartbreaks. Through timeless classics like "Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down" and "Me and Bobby McGee", he gave voice to the wanderer and the dreamer, forever shaping the landscape of country music and American storytelling. His legacy transcends music, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of those who find truth and beauty in his words.

Heartfelt condolences to his loved ones.

A Song for the Troubadour - is our tribute to this exceptional artist and man.
1 October 2024 at 5:20

Lyrics
[Slow Verse 1]
He wrote the words that found the lost,
In every heart, no matter the cost.
A voice like whiskey, strong and worn,
Telling tales of love and scorn.
On Sunday mornings, he found the truth,
In the heavy heart of a drifting youth.
With a pen in hand and a restless soul,
He turned the broken into gold.

[Chorus]
Sing me a song for the ones who roam,
For the tired hearts without a home.
For the man who gave the lost a voice,
And made the weary hearts rejoice.
With every line, he paved the way,
For the broken to find their say.
So here's to the poet, wild and free,
Who left his mark on you and me.

[Slow Verse 2 ]
He sang the night, he sang the day,
Told the stories we were too scared to say.
Of love and loss, of hope and pain,
In every drop of summer rain.
A highway rider with a heavy heart,
From the music he could never part.
With every strum and every rhyme,
He gave his soul, he gave his time.

[Chorus]
Sing me a song for the ones who roam,
For the tired hearts without a home.
For the man who gave the lost a voice,
And made the weary hearts rejoice.
With every line, he paved the way,
For the broken to find their say.
So here's to the poet, wild and free,
Who left his mark on you and me.

[Bridge]
From the highway miles to the honky-tonk bars,
He chased the moon, he reached for stars.
With nothing but truth in every word,
He made the silence feel like it was heard.

[Chorus]
Sing me a song for the ones who roam,
For the tired hearts without a home.
For the man who gave the lost a voice,
And made the weary hearts rejoice.
With every line, he paved the way,
For the broken to find their say.
So here's to the poet, wild and free,
Who left his mark on you and me.

[Outro]
The road goes on, the songs remain,
In every heart, in every name.
So we’ll keep singing as he wrote,
For the troubadour who left his note.