your old guitar
i was playing your old guitar
wondering where and how you are,
i guess you're still in nashville
trying to fill up those dreams,
the ones we used to talk about
until you'd fall asleep.
green eyes full of stars
you played all the local bars,
while the guys would all sit and stare
saying ‘look at the blonde girl with the long hair'
but your voice they couldn't ignore
you were way more than the girl next door.
i remember when you got the call
from a friend in nashville
who said he found it all,
and i knew you wouldn't stay
you packed a bag one night
and gently slipped away.
you left my blood on the tracks
when you jumped that boxcar heading south,
and there's a stain on my shirt
from where you left the message that said
‘i'm not coming… back.'
so now i play your old guitar
at all the same local bars,
blue eyes full of stars
that keep me from weeping,
wondering where you are.
Words and Music by Lawson Hancock