iii. Broken Instrument

Every now and then, he fishes through the junk piles

He's the local street bum from which everyone withholds their smiles

He gave no concern to the judgments that other people made

And walked right inside the junkyard, unafraid

Closer and closer he gets to the spot where I reside

One object after the next, he tosses aside

And I cannot lie, I'm hoping that he'll pick me up

But I'm almost certain that I'll be denied

Closer and closer he gets and to my surprise

He stops all the digging and fixes his eyes on me

He pulled me up

And wiped off the dust

But then he saw the crack in my side

And I thought he would put me right back

No, into his cart

And close to his heart

He treasured me

As he pushed me through the junkyard gates

Who is this man that he can see value in me?

Who is this man that he can hear the plight that I plead?

Yes

We went through town

Away from the junkyard where I was found

We passed the place where I broke down

We're going somewhere that's safe and sound

And to my surprise

We came right to the biggest mansion around

This guy is not a street bum, what he wears is a disguise

He took me inside

And fixed me up with new parts and supplies

Oh, this man must be the maker from which I've cried

Who else would believe in me?

A broken instrument that died

I've never known music to be so fine

The way he plays me is so divine

The whole world hears us together and starts to cry

So, let my sound forever be a testament of how

The maker can restore value

To the life of a broken instrument