The Guitar Pick
It's never been so hard, to play my friend the blues,
It's never been so hard, to play my friend the blues,
Though right beside him I did sit,
I played out all the tunes.
Every day he got much weaker, with pain upon his face,
Every day he got much weaker, with pain upon his face,
I sung the blues with deliverance,
Praying to change his fate.
I let go of my guitar pick, it's in a special place,
I let go of my guitar pick, it's in a special place,
This pick was always with me, but with life it couldn't wait.
This beast they called the cancer, ravaged my dear friend,
This beast they called the cancer, ravaged my dear friend,
His soul and spirit were soon released,
His weakened body came to end.
The bugler played behind us, the soldiers folded the flag,
The bugler played behind us, the soldiers folded the flag,
One by one, we laid our flowers,
For a soldier, my friend, my dad.
I let go of my guitar pick, it's in a special place,
I let go of my guitar pick, it's in a special place,
This pick was always with me, but with life, it couldn't wait.
2018
Copyright © Robert James Liguori | Year Posted 2021
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