[Verse 1] Underneath the sun's warm gaze, A man with a guitar plays, Amidst the fruit market's hum, His melodies dance and sway. Oranges, apples, in a riot of hues, As his fingers dance on strings, Stories of love and life he brews, In the heart of the market's rings. [Chorus] Oh, the colors of the fruit, Reflect in his joyful tune, Each note a ripe delight, Underneath the afternoon moon. Oh, the rhythm of the market, Blends with his guitar's hum, A symphony of life, Where every fruit has come. [Verse 2] Bananas, berries, in sweet accord, As he strums to the crowd's delight, His voice, a gentle lullaby, That soothes the bustling night. Vendors call, customers chat, Amidst the melodies he creates, A world where music and fruit are one, In the vibrant market's gates. [Chorus] Oh, the colors of the fruit, Reflect in his joyful tune, Each note a ripe delight, Underneath the afternoon moon. Oh, the rhythm of the market, Blends with his guitar's hum, A symphony of life, Where every fruit has come. [Bridge] As the sun begins to set, The shadows stretch across the ground, But his music lingers on, A memory that won't be found. The market's day is done, But his song remains, A testament to the joy, Of a simple afternoon. [Chorus] Oh, the colors of the fruit, Reflect in his joyful tune, Each note a ripe delight, Underneath the afternoon moon. Oh, the rhythm of the market, Blends with his guitar's hum, A symphony of life, Where every fruit has come. [Outro] As the last chord softly fades, And the market's day is through, The man with the guitar, Leaves a melody that's true. [End]