Becky's playing a by gershwin on her old piano She's been playing her childhood, "too long to recall..." But the chords that fall her fingertips, are the same She played when she could barely sit still, in `69, the keys made her hands look small
And she built her dream around symphonies and Around traveling the country, and playing the music kids later the dreams been reduced to "what-if" scenarios But hey, to dream is to have never lived at all lived at all
Dave's a corporate in the city of chicago And for fifteen years, he's had his to the old grindstone Poured his in the bank to feed the beast called portfolio Well, if is money then success is a life alone
You can look out at the skyline for some When you invest in love, the will be returned He has himself on a lifetime of spoken directness It took him forty years to the lesson learned Has he never lived at lived at all...
Never at all
The great american novel sits on top of peter's table 300 pages on a town he built inside of his 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 fighting the cars on the And his manuscript, has he written his own downfall? But embrace rejection, he'll kiss the seal of each envelope Better to live in than to never have lived at all To never at all live at all