What is wrong with this song?
On my first week alone I bought a guitar
and wrote a song.
A song a week, that's what I decided
and I thought of all the instruments
I could buy with my wages. I loved
doing things like that, working out my costs
with a pen and paper. That's the only time
I ever played that guitar, in that unfurnished
apartment, but if I took it out from under my bed
I could sing it to you, I remember the chords,
impressive for someone who taugh themselves
from a book, it sounds like a cover version
of a song you've never heard. It's something
I'd have liked to do, kept on writing those songs.
The first week in a new house, when everything
has a soundtrack.