My mother bought it secondhand
from a silent movie star.
It was out of tune,
but still I learned to play.
And with each note we both would smile,
forgetting who we are.
And all the pain would simply
fly away.
Something secondhand and broken
still can make a pretty sound.
Even if it doesn't have a place to live.
Oh, the words were left unspoken
when my mama came around.
But that secondhand white baby grand
still had something beautiful
to give.
Through missing keys and broken strings
the music was our own.
Until the day we said our last good-byes.
The baby grand was sent away.
A child all alone
to pray somebody else would realize
that something secondhand and broken
still can make a pretty sound.
Even if it doesn't have a place to live.
Oh, the words are still unspoken,
now that mama's not around.
But that secondhand white baby grand
still has something beautiful
to give.
For many years the music had to roam,
until we found a way to find a home.
So now I wake up every day and see her standing there
Just waiting for a partner to compose.
And I wish my mother still could hear
that sound beyond compare.
I'll play her song till everybody knows
that something secondhand and broken
still can make a pretty sound.
Don't we all deserve a family room
to live.
Oh, the words can't stay unspoken
until everyone has found
that secondhand white baby grand
that still has something beautiful
to give.
I still have something beautiful
to give.