Wrap up the cables, pack the tuner,
zip up the bag, and close the door
to the only avenue that ever made sense to me.
Six years ago, I found my place. I found
my savior in the form of six strings and a stage.
I preached your church, drank your tri-tone blood,
ate your scalefull body, practiced your gospel daily.
The path to escaping this life of
poverty and pain was never clearer,
my direction was never straighter,
my life was never more mine,
until one day. I had a decision to make.
I was given a choice. I was given no choice.
Follow the door I opened for myself,
follow a dream, follow my path, or
Open a new door, charge in blindly,
and hope for the best?
Six strings; one for every year that my life made sense,
clipped and discarded, for you.