[00:06.424]I wonder if this blade ran through someone's side,[00:14.947]The blood wiped away to hide,[00:20.338]How evil you grandfather was 'fore he died,[00:26.485]But war can make monsters out of us all,[00:33.325]I'm sure I'd become one if I was called,[00:38.527]And then it would be my blade,[00:43.321]Here at this yardsale,[00:51.306]The guitar I am holding is way out of tune,[00:58.810]The neck it is warped and the saddle is through,[01:06.515]I wonder if sweet music ever was played,[01:13.340]From the hands of a boy to a girl in the shade,[01:19.670]From this rickety ghost of a song,[01:25.386]Here at this yardsale,[01:34.069][02:10.491]A dollar for anything here on this quilt,[02:18.384]A price tag for hands from which all things are built,[02:25.025]A blanket of voices speak pleasure in shame,[02:32.365]Flowers of plastic and fruit of the same,[02:39.307]A basket of nothing at all,[02:44.894]Here at this yardsale,[02:52.837]So if I had the money I'd buy everything,[02:59.547]And cover the whole lot with good gasoline,[03:07.190]And burn it for all that I care for the past,[03:14.751]And rid mother earth of what never should last,[03:21.061]And give her the present of ash,[03:28.003]Made of a yardsale.[03:35.465]