The Unfinished Grain

[Intro]
[Verse]
Sweeping up the cedar dust
Sunlight’s turning into rust
The old shop feels small today
Since the old man passed away
Saw a shadow in the loft
Where the spiderwebs are soft
Moved a box of rusted gears
Found the work of thirty years
[Pre-Chorus]
Wrapped in flannel, tucked aside
A piece of wood he used to hide
The smell of coffee, faint and thin
Was rising from the grain within
[Chorus]
It’s a hand-carved neck of maple
Stronger than a wire staple
He left the frets for me to set
The finest gift I haven't played yet
He never said he liked my style
But he saved this for a long, long while
The pride he never found the words to say
Is written in the wood today
[Post-Chorus]
Yeah, it's written in the wood
Just like I knew he would
[Verse]
I remember being sixteen
My first build was rough and lean
He looked it over, didn't speak
Just a hollow in his cheek
I thought he hated every line
The way the varnish didn't shine
But here’s the template he was keeping
While the rest of us were sleeping
[Pre-Chorus]
Now I see the way he cared
In the secrets that he shared
In the curve he shaped by hand
The best luthier in the land
[Chorus]
It’s a hand-carved neck of maple
Stronger than a wire staple
He left the frets for me to set
The finest gift I haven't played yet
He never said he liked my style
But he saved this for a long, long while
The pride he never found the words to say
Is written in the wood today
[Bridge]
I glued the bridge and strung the wire
Set my spirit on a fire
The cello moans a low refrain
To match the beauty of the grain
The lap steel sings a lonesome cry
Underneath the evening sky
[Solo]
[Verse]
The town square’s filling up with folks
Telling all the same old jokes
I stepped out on the wooden stage
Like turning to a brand new page
I played the song he never finished
With a love that’s undiminished
I felt his hand upon my own
I wasn't standing there alone
[Chorus]
It’s a hand-carved neck of maple
Stronger than a wire staple
He left the frets for me to set
The finest gift I haven't played yet
He never said he liked my style
But he saved this for a long, long while
The pride he never found the words to say
Is written in the wood today
[Outro]