thistle
Keep to yourself
while the world becomes a breeze
To fill your sails
To fill your needs
That's the joke
Your part of the breeze too
That wants to move
Free as any spirit
choosing what it is thats
makes you ethereal
realities left to shape
when the piano keys press down
music flowing out
it's worlds end with
sheet music burning
tears falling
music
has to be played
lives
have to be lived
Even if no one is listening