Letras
There was a guitar in my house that never learned my name
Six quiet strings staring back at me in shame
My mom said someday she'd make the wooden body sing
But someday stayed silent like a long forgotten spring
I opened up the case like it held some hidden key
A promise that the music might finally speak through me
A booklet full of pictures, chords I couldn't read
Left hand on the frets while the right hand bled
I pressed my fingers down like the drawings told me to
But every single sound came out broken, sharp, and blue
It didn't ring like heroes on the records down the hall
It buzzed like a dying light bulb flickering on a wall
I thought maybe I was cursed or maybe built wrong
Like music was a language I was never meant to belong
Kids my age made melodies with barely any fight
But I struck the strings like they were enemies in the night
I thought about smashing it just quiet the defeat
But I'm well raised so I placed it gently on the seat
Every note I tried felt like truth turned weak
That guitar wouldn't listen and it sure wouldn't speak
But deep in all that failure, something fierce awoke
A hunger in the silence that refused to choke
Even though the strings ignored every word I tried to say
The dream didn't die, it just hid itself away
And years later, when the music finally called me back
I realized that the guitar wasn't broken, and neither was I
I was just a kid, searching for a voice
I hadn't learned yet, to try