Broken guitar,
Broken guitar,
In my shaky hands,
We go back real far.
You are my friend,
You're my bestest friend.
So come to my arms,
Baby, come to my arms.
'Cos that mug in the mirror is looking kinda desperate and pale,
Like some seedy young fucker with a tattooed arm,
Who just got let out on bail.
Broken guitar,
Broken guitar,
In my shaky hands,
We go back real far.
I hate this world,
This wonderful world,
To think that my body is going to die.
I hate this world,
This beautiful world,
To think that my baby is going to cry.
And that mug in the mirror is looking kinda beat up and sad,
Like some greenhorn boy,
Who got kicked off his horse,
And bit the dust real bad.
Broken guitar,
Broken guitar,
In my shaky hands,
We go back real far.
Yeah that mug in the mirror,
Is looking quite pathetic and weird,
With that puffy skin,
And those bloodshot eyes,
And that shitty-looking, pimply beard.
Broken guitar,
Broken guitar,
In my shaky hands,
We go back real far.
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