There’s an old guitar out in the hall,
standing up against the wall
Some days it just sits there
says nothing at all,
But some days it calls out to me
calls to me like a church bell’s ring,
And then it tells e
tells me everything.
Bone and wood and steel Is this a measure of a life that’s real?
Or is this a curtain like a child that I can hide behind
You know it hasn’t always been that way,
I forgot about it for a lot of yesterdays
I left it out in the shed, Someone held you in my stead
But somehow you came back to me,
there’s some bruises and the paint works chipped
But that’s nothing ....that’s nothing, that good love won’t fix
Bone and wood and steel Some measure of a life that’s real
A map that tells me where I’ve been… That old guitar knows all I’ve seen
Bone and wood and steel, A measure of a life that’s real
coloured like tobacco stains, The sound of notes falling down like rain.
There’s an old guitar out in the hall, Standing up against the wall
I watch it as the sun moves and the shadows fall
A face the colour of tobacco stains,
my face has seen its share of wind and rain
i”ve put it down but I’ll pick it up again,
you’re the only one that keeps me sane
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