For my birthday one time I bought myself this really swell guitar,
A 12-string I’ve been wanting for some years;
And I’d say I’d saved up all my pennies in a jar
If this were a made up song to please and charm your ears...
But I’m not much of a saver, so I traded in an axe
Which I bought off of the Internet unseen
Made special for this English guy, guitarist to the stars
Who’s always on the cover of the Guitar magazines.
Now that fancy guitar I traded in had fancy sound controls,
So many more than you would ever need:
A tuner and an eq and a memory and reverb,
A winch and GPS, anyway,
much more stuff than you could ever READ--
I mean, in this tiny little screen about the size of a watch face
In the DARK!
Besides, I tend to bang on my guitar,
And when jostled, all those digital effects would all go off at once
And it sounded like a pod of blue Whales with acid reflux on a Mexican diet
But I digress…
I sold it and bought THIS one!
And on my birthday I’m sittin and playin this guitar,
Looking out the window and across the street
At the former farmer’s fields where all those giant houses are,
And just lettin’ my thumb lay down a beat.
And as I sat there on my birthday sorta picking at the strings,
I let my mind shut up so my thumb could have its say,
And my eyes got up and wandered by themselves across the street
To where some kids were on their trampoline at play.