Songs

I have hung my lute from a nail by the door
And with a bright green ribbon its strings are tied
My heart is so full I can't sing anymore
I must keep my feelings hidden inside

All my passion all my heartache and pain
I tried to fashion into a joyful refrain

But when I sang it
It started to pall
How could I take pain
And paint it so small?

And the weight of that joy is too profound
Far too great to express in human sound
Far too great to express in human sound

So my dear friend you’re happiest hanging there
But should you feel the stroke of a breath of air
Or should you be brushed by a careless bumble bee
The sound in the air would tear at the heart of me

Oh why, why did I leave it hanging there so long
When sometimes it strums its own sorry song

Is this the memory of my pain and woe
Or the prelude to something I've yet to know?

Is this the memory of my pain and woe
Or the prelude to something I've yet to know?