My Harps
I have two harps,
One I play and one I lose.
One is smart, and one is old.
One is sweet, and one is not.
But whenever I play them,
I pick my brand new harp,
All clean, smart and sweet,
And look at the other in disgust.
But I don't know why,
Maybe because everybody else does it,
And I'm treated the same way.
I want to play my old harp,
But I don't have the courage.
But one day, I'll try to do it
And make it to the top.
But they'll tell me to stop,
And I'll have to start all over again.
Going on and on until I can't
Take it any more,
And I'll play my old harp,
And no matter what my new one play,
I'll be playing it anyway.
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