Guitar Lyrics

When the Guitar Man got his hands crushed, there was nothing we could say

And the nearest rehab facility was three hours away (by train)

We just stared at them and he did the same

Rest, my son

Rest, my son

Give it a rest, my son

A reluctant correspondent broke the news to me

She said I wasn't going to live to see age fifty

Oh, man!

I got a daughter, did you think about that, God?

Rest, my son

Rest, my son

It's time to rest, my son

So I add to cart a selection of last week's tapestries

But they wouldn't give 'em to me

Whatcha know 'bout that?

And when the Guitar Man got his hands crushed, it was the last week in July

My, how time goes by