I was in a country band in the 1970s
One night we had a flat on the van, on the way out to Tennessee
Asked an old mechanic, name of Johnson, for some air
And everybody called him "Socrates"

"Hey, what's goin' on?"
"Not much of nothin', how 'bout you?"
And that's the way it's done in our hometown
He could talk a stream of nonsense, just as pretty as you please
And everybody called him "Socrates"

He said, "Fame and fortune are easily confused, as are luck and destiny
Are you bein' loved, boys, or bein' used? Runnin' wild or bein' free?"
He said, "The answers to your questions are more questions such as these"
And everybody called him "Socrates"

I got to know him well, I even worked with him a while
He had an old guitar we'd pass around once in a while
I never will forget the last few words he said to me
When I finally quit old Socrates

"Do you know what you are capable of knowing?
Do your hands, son, ever touch the soil?
And do you love all that you are capable of lovin'?
And do you want me to check that oil?"
Everybody called him "Socrates"

Yeah, the Christians found him crazy
And the derelicts agreed
But everybody called him
Everybody called him
Everybody called him
"Socrates"