by colter james neeley
huntsville , al
capo on the 1st fret
C F
i wonder if this blade ran through someone’s side
Dm FaddG
the blood wiped away to hide
F FaddG F FaddG F
how evil you grandfather was ’fore he died
C F C
but war can make monsters out of us all
Dm FaddG F
i’m sure i’d become one if i was called
C Dm G
and then it would be my blade
Fmaj7 C
here at this yardsale
the guitar i Am holding is way out of tune
the neck it is warped and the saddle is through
i wonder if sweet music ever was played
from the hands of a boy to a girl in the shade
from this rickety ghost of a song
here at this yardsale
a dollar for anything here on this quilt
a price tag for hands from which all things are built
a blanket of voices speak pleasure in shame
flowers of plastic and fruit of the same
a basket of nothing at all
here at this yardsale
so if i had the money i’d buy everything
and cover the whole lot with good gasoline
and burn it for all that i care for the past
and rid mother earth of what never should last
and give her the present of ash
made of a yardsale
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