I’m that instrument left on the shelf

The one collecting dust for the past couple of years.

Unnoticed, rusting strings,

The bow hair breaking

For its not been used

I’m the violin lying on the shelf no longer

Seen for there is no bow

To play what i’ve got to say

Left alone i think of the times when

I was heard

When i was played.

The way it use to be made me feel

Like i’d fit in.

Where is that now?

Left on this shelf hidden

behind new things

Better instruments Being able to say

what they want to say

Here i am lying on the shelf

collecting dust

Rusting strings, untuned.

I’ve held back how I feel.

For you haven’t seen what’s real

All I’ve wanted to say

Is that I miss the good ole days