I start my car
Windows go down
The cold wind comes in
I turn off
Radio on
Play your songs
I hear how you play
I see in my thoughts
How you push
The keys on the piano
I feel like you are sitting next to me
And smile at me
But every time I realize that
You are not next to me
Miss you more and more.

love is like a piano,
when the white and the black keys are pressed after the rhythm,
a song appear where the hearts can hear each other beating together.

Hey there! Hey there! I want you to see
Can you be… here?
Over the top’s where i need to be
Could you be me?

It wasn’t right
When you left your keys with me
in my mind
Will you ever be with me?

You had always stayed where you are
You were my star
Yesterday you said you’ll always be mine
Then i woke up in time

It wasn’t right
When you left your keys with me
Here in my mind
Will you ever be with me?

It wasn’t right
When you left your kiss with me
In my mind
Will you ever be with me?

It wasn’t right
When you left and starred with me
‘Cause here in my mind
You’ll always be my dream

Together we will always be

Piano keys all chipped and worn,
candle light sits before her.
Composition that's tattered and torn,
within a room of darkness.

goosebumps lay across her skin
as the night air creeps slowly in.
strands of brunette blur a vision
as fingers slay the keys.

Delicate, intricate moments at first,
Passion wells up inside.
from end to end, she can't contain it,
keys are beaten with concupiscent desire.

The melody she carries makes her hot,
the chords that ring hit her sweet.
Even within a room so dark,
she can really turn up the heat.

I might misplace my keys from time to time,
I'll forget to buy milk and do the laundry,
my mother calls me irresponsible
cannot blame her, she doesn't understand;
my mind is busy
analyzing peoples lips when they talk, the way they smile
or when they walk
observe their fingers as they hold on to something
do they hold it tightly? does the way they hold it influence their need for it?
I like to study peoples eyes the most
when they laugh
when they cry
when they talk or just listen
the glory is each individual eye and the way the color changes in sunlight
I'm sorry I forgot your birthday
the names of the movies we watched
I didn't mean to ignore your calls, i promised I'd call back
I will

My hands itch to dust off
The neglected typewriter sitting
On my grandma's shelf and
Remind it of the life it once had
In a forgotten age where
Fingers danced methodically
On carefully partitioned stages
And moved to the rhythm of keys.