Yarns and chords
I got all these stories swimming in my head
I toss and turn for hours then get on out of bed
I grab a pen and paper, and this old six string gun
It pours out like a fountain, as I scribble and I strum
I don’t know if it sounds good
I don’t know if it makes sense
But I struggle through the tangle
As I’m clearing out my bins
Chorus:
I’m spinning yarns and playing cords
Thinking ‘bout the days I was in the Corps
When me and boys were doing …hard time.
We’d laugh and cry, play and fight, can’t say that we always got it right
But we held our ground, and some did not come home.
Looking in the mirror now, at the lines and at the gray
Can’t believe I’m still standing here, and don’t know what to say
Some of them are forever young, their names etched on a stone
But they sure won’t be forgotten, and they live on in this song
Chorus:
I’m spinning yarns and playing cords
Thinking ‘bout the days I was in the Corps
When me and boys were doing …hard time.
We’d laugh and cry, play and fight, can’t say that we always got it right
But we held our ground, and some did not come home.
Looking back sometimes I cry, but more than often laugh
All the stories still alive, about the boys from my past
And as I put down my old rifle, and pick up this guitar
I hope they’re looking down and smile, and see we’ve come so far
Chorus:
I’m spinning yarns and playing cords
Thinking ‘bout the days I was in the Corps
When me and boys were doing …hard time.
We’d laugh and cry, play and fight, can’t say that we always got it right
But we held our ground, and some did not come home