[00:06.424]I wonder if this blade ran through someone's side,
[00:14.947]The blood wiped away to hide,
[00:20.338]How evil you grandfather was 'fore he died,
[00:26.485]But war can make monsters out of us all,
[00:33.325]I'm sure I'd become one if I was called,
[00:38.527]And then it would be my blade,
[00:43.321]Here at this yardsale,
[00:51.306]The guitar I am holding is way out of tune,
[00:58.810]The neck it is warped and the saddle is through,
[01:06.515]I wonder if sweet music ever was played,
[01:13.340]From the hands of a boy to a girl in the shade,
[01:19.670]From this rickety ghost of a song,
[01:25.386]Here at this yardsale,
[01:34.069]
[02:10.491]A dollar for anything here on this quilt,
[02:18.384]A price tag for hands from which all things are built,
[02:25.025]A blanket of voices speak pleasure in shame,
[02:32.365]Flowers of plastic and fruit of the same,
[02:39.307]A basket of nothing at all,
[02:44.894]Here at this yardsale,
[02:52.837]So if I had the money I'd buy everything,
[02:59.547]And cover the whole lot with good gasoline,
[03:07.190]And burn it for all that I care for the past,
[03:14.751]And rid mother earth of what never should last,
[03:21.061]And give her the present of ash,
[03:28.003]Made of a yardsale.
[03:35.465]