Everything stands ready
For the headline band
There'll be three or four hundred people here
By the time the night ends
Some kind of hippie jam band
Makes change on too much
And all the pretty girls and the college kids
Seem to really eat that up

So while the waitress washes glasses
And the club owner's smokin' pot
I'm one of six or seven people here
For the eight o' clock slot
A solo desperado is up there
Playin' his guitar
And he just calls it like he sees it
And sings out to an empty bar 'cause who…

CHORUS
Who wants to hear the truth
On Saturday night
Yeah who,
Who wants to hear the truth
On Saturday night

He's a hometown hero
That everybody likes
Or at least they like to talk about him
They say man that guy can write
He's got an eye for observation
And a way of weaving words
That makes the mundane things meaningful
In a way you never knew they were
And it's such a shame you know he's
Wise beyond his years
And really ought to be a superstar
But he just don’t sell enough beer

CHORUS

His epitaph's been written
Just like the ones before
He's got a few good years left
But he's doomed to die
Broken sick and poor
And somebody'll make a T-shirt
His record sales will soar
And everybody knew him when
But they wish they'd gone to see him more
And they hold a concert
Just to put him in his grave
'Cause his family can't make rent
And they've got all of his back bills to pay

CHORUS

Yeah who wants to know the truth
About Saturday night