Literature
Bleeding on my strings
I'm bleeding on my strings.
My eyes are distant, I'm far away,
only a dull throbbing keeps me sane.
My fingers torn open on the strings,
a crimson stain slowly spreads its name.
I know many licks and many more riffs
but not for tonight, just lonely notes ring.
A soft, sad melody holding its own,
no fancy fretwork or lyrics to sing.
I'm bleeding on my strings,
but that won't stop me now.
No tears well in my eye or on my cheek,
I cry none, While My Guitar Gently Weeps.
Tears of edgeless red run warm from my vein,
they try to escape my broken bloodstream.
A truer picture, I will never paint,
than the one painted by this dull r