Doesn't Sound the Same
I can't stop, what's there to stop?
My fingers keep moving on the strings,
Playing with a bow that cuts them off.
Blue strings aren't all that strong,
But it's okay, I knew it all along.
I play with all the sadness I carry so far.
But the strings are breaking now,
And these aren't the tears I tried not to cry,
And blue strings are just lonely blue veins.
You can't play a violin
On your arm with only a blade,
It just doesn't sound the same.