Becky's playing a piece by on her old piano She's playing since her childhood, "too long to recall..." But the chords that fall from her fingertips, are the She played she could barely sit still, back in `69, When the keys made her look small
And she built her dream around and concertos Around traveling the country, and playing the halls Four kids later the dreams been reduced to "what-if" But hey, to never dream is to have lived at all Never at all
Dave's a corporate lawyer in the city of And for fifteen years, had his nose to the old grindstone Poured his money in the bank to feed the beast called Well, if time is money then success is a alone
You can look out at the skyline for some When you invest in love, the will be returned He has prided himself on a lifetime of directness It took him forty years to hear the 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 signs the cover page, uncorks the with the dusty label his wife a glass, she says "baby, bring the bottle to bed"
At 6 am out fighting the cars on the freeway And fighting his manuscript, has he his own downfall? But he'll rejection, he'll kiss the seal of each envelope Better to live in hope than to never have at all To never at all live at all