He played that guitar
like cupid on a broken heart
or a harmony upon a harp.

The sad instrument wept
his tears unto the dry crowd
and they sighed in saturation.

And once he was drained
of everything he kept contained
they lit their lighters, begging for more.

Alas, he was alive no longer,
and had nothing but great nothings
left to give them.

So they took the silence,
and gave it back to him.