My Stranger Chords in the Middle of the Street, House

I’m in the middle of the street playing my guitar. Some kids are playing there. A mom looks out of her window and wonders about me. Eventually, the kids, two blond boys about 12, are playing right next to me. I wonder if they even like my playing.

Then, I’m in the kids’ house. Their father is there; it’s a laid back good time. I’m still playing guitar.

Eventual their mom comes home and she is nervous I’m there. I sense this. I’m not even sure I should be there, even though I like it. I know it’s time to leave. I say my goodbyes. Before I go, I notice I’m carrying some red curtains or long hand towels. I don’t know how to put them back.