So I bought a guitar yesterday
and I was struggling to give it a name
I chose four words each starting with
a different letter
But none of them seemed to fit.
So I wrote them out on a small sheet of paper
and I was trying to arrange them into a song
A song that was to be written for you
or for me, if it makes any difference.
So I listened carefully to my thoughts that roamed around the place
naked, with no words to clothe them
I swallowed them insatiably
fearing that my guitar would be unable to convey them.
So I tore the piece of paper to bits
leaving my struggle behind
For I need no excuse
to love something without a name.
