Thief In The Night

Thief In The Night Lyric by Clive James, music by Pete Atkin
A guitar is a thief in the night That robs you of sleep through the wall A guitar is a thin box of light Throwing reflections that rise and fall It reminds you of Memphis or maybe Majorca Big Bill Broonzy or Garcia Lorca A truck going north or a cab to the Festival Hall And the man who plays the guitar for life Tests his thumbs on a slender knife Forever caresses a frigid wife His fingers travel on strings and frets Like a gambler's moving to cover bets Remembering what his brain forgets While his brain remembers the fears and debts Long fingernails that tap a brittle rhythm on a glass Around his neck a ribbon with a little silver hook Like some military order second class You can read him like an open book From the hands that spend their lives creating tension From the wrists that have a lean and hungry Eyes that have a mean and angry look A guitar is a thief in the night That robs you of sleep through the wall A guitar is a thin box of light Throwing reflections that rise and fall A guitar reminds you of death and taxes Charlie Christian outplaying the saxes The beginners' call and the very last call of all