I sat there on my bed
Pluckin ' away at his guitar.
The only thing I had left
From the memory of grandpa. It's a littl' old, beat up, But still it makes pretty chords that the family loves.
He used to teach me Thursday night's
How to play it swell.
When he died of cancer
I didn't take the death too well.
Now I lose myself in memories
Of Thursday night lessons
That grandpa gave to me.
written by Evelyn Creon
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