A small patch of the world
Where my imagination swirls
And on Fridays belongs to me
It's not a tall mountain, or the sea
But a room stacked high with everything
That I really need
Or maybe it's full with one thing
That means so much to me
A piano, and a microphone
Where I can sing all alone
And clean my heart when it is full
So I can think, so I may fill the hole