Your Violin

Your violin’s ready, it’s here in the shop
It’s got a new bridge and it’s got a new top
The neck, it was broken, snapped in two
But now it’s almost as good as new
I salvaged the splinters the best that I could
Wherever I couldn’t I patched up the wood
It sounds pretty good, it looks okay
It’s ready to pick up, it’s ready to play

Music was silenced, locked in its case
It had to be hidden and not show its face
The stormtroopers came, they kicked in the door
They found it after they tore up the floor
Just for amusement they forced you to play
And after you finished they took you away
They stomped it to bits and just left it there
Your violin’s ready, I made the repairs

The bones of its body were kept in a sack
By the neighbor in case you might ever come back
Up in the attic, musty with mold
Discovered after the house was sold
It wasn’t much more than a bag of debris
The day when it was delivered to me
The name inside, was it yours as well?
Your violin’s got a story to tell

Every so often another appears
Like the rest that have found me over the years
Who’d it belong to? Where was it from?
Who wore down the back of the neck with their thumb?
I take the pieces and I make them whole
Healing the body, waking the soul
I cut and I sand, I bend and I glue
In honor of Him and remembrance of you