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My mother bought it secondhand from a silent movie star |
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It was out of tune but still I learned to play |
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And with each note we both would smile forgetting who we are |
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And all the pain would simply fly away |
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Something secondhand and broken still can make a pretty sound |
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Even if it doesn't have a place to live |
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Oh, the words were left unspoken when my Mama came around |
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But that Secondhand White Baby Grand still had something beautiful to give |
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Through missing keys and broken strings the music was our own |
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Until the day we said our last goodbyes |
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The baby grand was sent away |
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A child all alone, to pray somebody else would realize |
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That something secondhand and broken still can make a pretty sound |
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Even if it doesn't have a place to live |
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Oh, the words are still unspoken now that Mama's not around |
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But that Secondhand White Baby Grand still has something beautiful to give |
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For many years the music had to roam |
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Until we found a way to find a home |
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So now I wake up every day and see her standing there |
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Just waiting for a partner to compose |
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And I wish my mother still could hear that sound beyond compare |
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I'll play her song till everybody knows |
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That something secondhand and broken still can make a pretty sound |
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Don't we all deserve a family room to live |
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Oh, the words can't stay unspoken until everyone has found |
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That Secondhand White Baby Grand that still has something beautiful to give |
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I still have something beautiful to give |
