The Guitar

THE GUITAR

Once I had a fine guitar                    

She taught me to play                       

Her rosewood fingerboard                 

Had little birds of pearl inlay             

 

Her simple voice was clear                 

It had the ring of youth                      

She had heartwood deep inside           

So she always sang the truth              

 

And the days that I spent holding her   

Were full of life for me                       

She saw people clearly                       

And she sang what she would see:        

 

Insecurities of lovers                           

Trying hard to hold their pose

The clash of children's colors               

When they pick out their own clothes

The heart beats lost forever                  

Inside those afraid to touch

And the reasons people give explaining  

Why they own too much                        

 

When she sang with honest beauty          

Of the love we might achieve                  

Then the people flocked to hear her        

Yes, they wanted to believe                    

But when she sang about our problems    

They would say that she was wrong         

They told her she was crazy                    

They said “Sing the pretty songs!              

Sing the pretty songs!”                            

 

But she didn't stop her songs                   

The people had to know

She only sang them louder                       

‘Cause she loved the people so

 

“When the comforts of the wealthy            

Are worth more than healthy kids

When our trusted leaders lie                   

And give us broken promises

When the lives of all the creatures

On the earth are on the line

Then it's time for better answers!

Now we'd better find some time!”

 

But the people wouldn't listen

Even though she screamed and cried

And the strain from all her trying

Cracked her heartwood deep inside

Her strings flew loose and wild

And so everyone assumed

She was just an instrument,

Too finely tuned. ... too finely tuned

 

Too finely tuned

For an audience of backs

Too finely tuned

With her heartwood full of cracks

Too finely tuned

To close her mouth and shut her eyes

Too finely tuned to sing them

Lies.           

 

Once I had a fine guitar

She taught me to play

Her rosewood fingerboard

Had little birds of pearl inlay

 

Her simple voice was clear

It had the ring of youth

She had heartwood deep inside

So she always sang the truth

 

And the days that I spend holding her

Are full of life for me

She sees people clearly

And we need that desperately,

She sees people clearly

And we need that desperate-ly!

 

 

 

Written by Peter Alsop, ©Copyright 1987, Moose School Music(BMI)

On Disciples of PerFection - www.peteralsop.com