I was nineteen years old and in true love, with my guitar
I was all about the music, didn’t care to be no star
Got to my gig and found, I left my slide at home
So I drove back to get it, but ran up the stairs too fast
I tripped and fell forward, my hand went through the pain of glass
Blood was gushing from my palm, I might be late for my gig
I wrapped my bleeding hand, and grabbed the slide I came for
Stopped at the ER, the doctor asked ever had stitches before?
I said no and he told me, soon I couldn’t say that no more
Got five stitches and some Darvon and I headed out the door
I moved my hand, said ok to play, got onstage just in time
The show must go on and on, fifty years and counting
But what if?
That cut had been a little deeper
What if, I could never play again
What if I didn’t have all those years of guitars and gigs and stages and players
And friends and crowds and dancers in front of me then, to look back on now
What if?
What if the truth, could never be hid
What if some it didn’t happen, but some other it did
What if my lucky breaks, had not gone my way
What if some jackass on the road had a bad day
What if peace and love prevailed, instead of fight and spite
What if at the crossroads, I turned wrong instead of right
