This Old Banjo

There´s a banjo hanging on my wall.

It hadn't been played on, for very long.

It stares at me, with these old and angry eyes.

With a coat of dust, from a fated past.

As time went on, up on that wall.

Them rusty strings breaks apart and dies.

And I see them blue fields clearly from my past.

I hear that banjo ringing and I t makes me sad.

I´d love to hear that lonesome sound.

when I sleep I hear that song.

For miles I hear it ring, inside my head.

And when I wake up from my sleep.

The ringing in my ears they call me

back from times when I was young.

And I see them blue fields clearly from my past.

I hear that banjo ringing and it makes me sad.