I hold the final living piece of me,
here, in my hands.
There's nothing I wouldn't give,
to be alive again.
My thoughts are not my own, it seems,
I've got someone else's brain.
But what am I?
If I don't have that?
My last remaining piece.
I feel like the only place I belong, the only way I'm living, is when I have my guitar. If anything happens to it, I'm fucked.
Guitar addict? Or are you too addicted to the union of instrument and artist?
Maybe a little bit of both haha (: