MUSIC FOR SALE

[verse]
There’s the mailbox full of letters never sent
Flies in the kitchen and the radio spent
Hello in there, echoes down the hall
Your songs still hanging on the wall

[Verse]
Send me an angel from Montgomery tonight
The jukebox hums in the corner light
Old songs grow stronger now that you’re gone
And your souvenirs still drift softly on

[Chorus]
We play the songs that make us feel fine
We laugh and cry at every line
Every song feels like a friend of mine
Since the day we lost John Prine

[Verse]
Blow up your TV the old song said
The living room’s quiet where the laughter ends
There’s a hole in daddy’s arm, a sad old rhyme
The kind of truth you only hear from Prine

[Bridge]
Some voices fade, some never decline
You can hear that illegal smile in every line
The world went quiet that springtime
When the music stopped and the angels sang

[Outro]
Remember the mailbox full of letters never sent
And the songs that feel heaven-sent
We’ll sing them softly from time to time
Since the day we lost John Prine