theres something about watching her play
her fingers slide across the keys
every note falls perfect upon my ears
I never really knew her,
except for the little she allowed to show,
her face was always still and her hands were always clinched
we had the same last name,
went home to the same house at the end of the day,
although she always seemed a million miles away
we had a lot in common
although we chose not to notice
both on seperate sides
plaster and concrete between us
i could hear her music,
as Im sure she could hear mine...
hers was timed and flawless,
while mine was always paused,
going over and over
until I hit the note just right
Every once in a while,
when I would stop for a moment
I could hear her tears between notes...
soft and silent,
while mine were always sound and steady
strangers but living the same life
coming from the same people,
feeling the same feelings,
hearing the same voices shouting from the stairs,
praying the same prayers each night
But The music stopped eventually...
and she packed up her life,
along with the last box of tissue...
I watched from a distance,
as I always had...
That was the end for me
my prize posession now tucked away
in the back of my closet,
the other now belongs to an unfortante child making music come to life,
his parents watch from the front row as he saranades the room.... never been so proud
my front row was always empty...
they never heard us play,
thier voices at night covered the sound...
that night I fell asleep to my own tears
tonight...
nothing to drown out the sound drifting from the hall...
now both in different places,
but with the same scars
her fingers slide across the keys
every note falls perfect upon my ears
I never really knew her,
except for the little she allowed to show,
her face was always still and her hands were always clinched
we had the same last name,
went home to the same house at the end of the day,
although she always seemed a million miles away
we had a lot in common
although we chose not to notice
both on seperate sides
plaster and concrete between us
i could hear her music,
as Im sure she could hear mine...
hers was timed and flawless,
while mine was always paused,
going over and over
until I hit the note just right
Every once in a while,
when I would stop for a moment
I could hear her tears between notes...
soft and silent,
while mine were always sound and steady
strangers but living the same life
coming from the same people,
feeling the same feelings,
hearing the same voices shouting from the stairs,
praying the same prayers each night
But The music stopped eventually...
and she packed up her life,
along with the last box of tissue...
I watched from a distance,
as I always had...
That was the end for me
my prize posession now tucked away
in the back of my closet,
the other now belongs to an unfortante child making music come to life,
his parents watch from the front row as he saranades the room.... never been so proud
my front row was always empty...
they never heard us play,
thier voices at night covered the sound...
that night I fell asleep to my own tears
tonight...
nothing to drown out the sound drifting from the hall...
now both in different places,
but with the same scars
