Cleaning My Gun

The chisels are calling, it's time to make sawdust Steely reminders of things left to do Monteleone, a mandolin's waiting for you My fingerplane's working, gentle persuasion I bend to the wood and I coax it to sing Monteleone, your new one and only will ring Monteleone, your new one and only will ring The rain on the window, the snow on the gravel The seasons go by to the songs in the wood Too quick or too careless It all could unravel, it so easily could The chisels are calling, it's back for an encore Back to the shavings that cover the floor Monteleone, they're calling for you Monteleone, they're calling for you