The music always reminds me of her skin
so soft,
so gently tender
she invites me in to feel the notes,she plays
upon her heart strings and she lays herself to strum some more,then in these lonely moors of melody
I sing to keep her company and to be at one with her,we share the staves and octaves,enslaved to what becomes desire and the music that she plays defies the laws of gravity where we both float in that ecstasy that only lovers know.

There is little time to feel the rhythm,hear the rhyme but I will stay,I want to watch the play of fingers over frets and let's do it once again.

I watch as the evening of the last day rolls on in and pin my ears back to listen and try to understand,
where did the music begin and did I know how fast or slow to make those moves?

I want to go back to the start and restring the lonely heart or play symphonies across her keys
and if only this could be,
that I could find the music man in me.

In the middle of the desperation sea
miles from land
you torture me
with sadness rising up in tides that carry me across the scales,
and as my confessions ,declarations sail into port fortissimo
I want you to know
that now I know and can we play the music one more time
before I go.