Becky's playing a by gershwin on her old piano She's playing since her childhood, "too long to recall..." But the chords that from her fingertips, are the same She played when she barely sit still, back in `69, When the keys made her hands small
And she her dream around symphonies and concertos Around the country, and playing the music halls Four kids later the dreams been to "what-if" scenarios But hey, to never dream is to have lived at all Never at all
a corporate lawyer in the city of chicago And for fifteen years, had his nose to the old grindstone Poured his money in the bank to feed the called portfolio Well, if is money then success is a life alone
You can look out at the skyline for forgiveness When you invest in love, the same be returned He has prided on a lifetime of spoken directness It took him forty years to hear the lesson Has he lived at all? lived at all...
Never at all
The great american novel sits on top of peter's kitchen 300 pages on a he built inside of his head He the cover page, uncorks the bottle with the dusty label Pours his wife a glass, she says "baby, bring the to bed"
At 6 am he's out the cars on the freeway And his manuscript, has he written his own downfall? But embrace rejection, he'll kiss the seal of each envelope Better to live in hope to never have lived at all To never at all live at all