Tomorrow

Cut from the neck of your guitar, 
I am but a broken piece of string, 
Rolled up in a spiral 
And left in the corner

With crushed up music sheets...
I can read the notes on them, 
While you go on making music - 
Some new and some that I have heard before - 
Every word a bleeding poem , 
Every note a crying song. 
At times I see you lost, 
At others you find yourself, 
And each day you walk away, 
Leaving me to wonder If I'll see you again...

Tomorrow?