|
He plays piano in a jazz band |
|
And I love him for the man that he could be |
|
I asked him, "If I let you, would you play me?" |
|
Then delighted as he tickled every key |
|
And he could feel the ivory skin beneath his fingertips |
|
And I would watch the notes fall one by one from his lips |
|
And he could snap his fingers to the beat |
|
Of my heart, but he couldn't feel the heat |
|
And I want to be like lovers in an old romantic song |
|
Where the music fades away before the love it can go wrong |
|
But I am just a dreamer wearing sensible shoes |
|
And I still dream in color even though I sing the blues |
|
And he is playing scales up and down me |
|
As we sing our tales of hope in perfect harmony |
|
And measure out our love by the length of a song but |
|
It disappears somewhere when the music is gone |
|
Every song ever written has a final note |
|
And I sign my name below every letter that I wrote |
|
And lovers who part give a final kiss |
|
Now I know it's not the player but the music that I miss |
|
He plays piano in a jazz band |
|
And I love him for the man that he could be |
|
I asked him, "If I let you, would you play me?" |
|
A song that will play forever on |
|
Oh, but I am just a dreamer wearing sensible shoes |
|
And I still dream in color even though I sing the blues |
|
And I want to be like lovers in an old romantic song |
|
Where the music fades away before the love it can go wrong |
