There comes a time with the music
when I must detune my axe
since leaving strings unattended
will only break her neck
They will pull away from true
due to temperature and rain
and if anything ever can
that will cause her pain
When her strings aren't playing straight
she cannot make her song
she wants to make it pretty
but it just comes out all wrong
There's a lament in every note
a mourning in every tone
when they want to bring it true
but that's left her all alone
She holds truth as a beacon
and in this perfect light
brings melody through horror
so refulgent and so bright
Resplendent in an Ideal
we've been seeking all this time
but now the only melody
comes out through this small rhyme
She stands in beauty in her magic
which only she can reveal
but she needs a little help
so anyone can feel
the joy and all the wonder
which seem so hard to find
but she's known where to go
and she's been here all this time
- Colonel Arbuthnot Jones
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