Her is Cherry. We've just met, But already she knows me better than you. understands me, after 18 years, But you still don't see me like you ought to do. Maybe we could talk bout things if You was of wood and strings. While I love every sound, I don't know how to turn you down, And you're so thick and my pages thin, So I got me a new best With a pick-up that puts you to shame, And Cherry is her name. And when I'm lonely Cherry's there And she plays along while I out my blues I could be crying, And don't care You won't call me back, you're stubborn as a mule. May-be we could talk bout if You was made of wood and strings. You think I've Gone too far I'm talking bout My new guitar.