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Wild guitars came from forests; plainly, woodsmen share a calling |
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Flailing noises form a chorus: harmonies of arbors falling |
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And they play, say Conway, and ring, my girl sing |
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and plead and beg and plead and beg and plead and beg and plead and beg to be heard and had and carried on |
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Without us, song is nothing |
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My wife turned crazy on me one day; started chopping up the bed |
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Looked past me with gaping eyes |
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Left me too hard to be scared |
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She left, but circled the yard |
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All night she haunted the home |
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The kids went crazy, life was hard |
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The sounds of rings: boom |
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And they play, say Conway, and ring, my girl sing |
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and plead and beg and plead and beg and plead and beg and plead and beg to be heard and had and carried on |
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Without us, song is nothing |
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I taught the children to play piano, singing with sweet voice |
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Music kept their mom away |
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Melody fostered choice, and choice brought us these days we have, and choice brought us to our rejoicing |
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Always choose the noise of music...always end the day in singing |
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And they play, don't they? |
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And ring, and everything |
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And bounce and boil and bounce and boil and bounce and boil, and plead and beg to be heard and had and carried on |
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Without us, song is nothing |
