Rust on the Strings
We played this thing hard,
we played it hot—
every note rang clear,
but clear don’t last.
Somewhere in the action
the rust crept through,
ate into the copper
all the way to the blue.
Can’t tune away corrosion,
can’t retighten what’s gone to silt.
The song was built from rust—
that’s what the damage built.
We shook the room once.
The room’s quiet now.
Time takes its vow,
and the strings sing on.