Johnny with the matches

“Johnny with the Matches”

Verse 1
Johnny plays six strings carved from bone,
Rust on the frets but the fire’s his own,
Sits on a crate by the edge of town,
Makes silence lean in when he lays it down.

Cards in his pocket, dust on his hands,
Eyes like he’s seen too much to be planned,
He don’t talk loud, he don’t beg or boast,
But the air gets strange when he starts his show.

Pre-Chorus
He don’t need smoke, he don’t need flame,
He bends the moment, not the name.

Chorus
Johnny does magic with nothing but sound,
Turns thin air heavy, turns lost things around,
Plays you a truth you didn’t know you knew,
On an old wood guitar tuned low and bruised.

Johnny sells bugs in a matchbox case,
Little lives crawling, time slowed down pace,
Says, “Everything’s worth what someone will pay,”
Then vanishes right before your face.

Verse 2
He learned his tricks in the back of bars,
Trading songs for scars and scars for scars,
Watched coins disappear, watched hope come back,
Learned how to lie without losing fact.

Beetles and crickets, jars on the line,
Names them like saints, keeps perfect time,
Says, “They survive what we don’t survive,”
Plucks a low note, lets it stay alive.

Pre-Chorus
He don’t need amps, he don’t need a stage,
Just wood and wire and a little rage.

Chorus
Johnny does magic with nothing but sound,
Turns thin air heavy, turns lost things around,
Plays you a truth you didn’t know you knew,
On an old wood guitar tuned low and bruised.

Johnny sells bugs in a matchbox case,
Little lives crawling, time slowed down pace,
Says, “Everything’s worth what someone will pay,”
Then vanishes right before your face.

Bridge
He says magic’s just paying attention,
Longer than anyone else can stand.
He says bugs don’t lie about living,
And guitars don’t lie about hands.

Breakdown
Tap on the wood
Stamp on the ground
Breath between strings
No way out

Verse 3
Johnny packs light when the night gets thin,
Leaves behind questions, pockets full of wind,
If you ask where he’s going, he just smiles slow,
Like the answer’s a trick you already know.

There’s a hum in the street when he walks away,
Like the world just learned how to stay,
One less mystery, one more scar,
One more song living where you are.

Final Chorus
Johnny does magic with nothing but sound,
No wires, no lights, no safe way out,
If you felt seen, if you felt strange,
That’s the cost of standing in Johnny’s range.

Johnny sells bugs, Johnny plays strings,
Johnny makes meaning out of little things,
When the song goes quiet and the night feels long,
You’ll swear he’s still playing—
Low and gone.

Outro
Six strings humming.
Matchbox empty.
Magic stays.