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.