Do you look into the future and see heaps of gold?
Or do you do you see yourself scraping up some old green mold?
Is a baseball visible, or the grand Whitehall?
Do you look into the future and see anything at all?
I look into the future and see a black and white thing
This thing is my muse,
The piano I choose.
I press down the keys, and out comes a sound;
A sound of true beauty, no impurities found.
The notes on the page
Seem to take me away
So soon I engage
And my whole heart is there
The song is a dance
I’m now in a trance
The music has got me somehow
And now you can see
The musician in me
For this thing is my muse, the piano I choose.
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