I Don't Write Music

I don't write music when I'm happy
I don't write songs when I'm particularly sad
I wait for the rushing of the waters to subside

But what do I lose in the calm
What if I choose to face the turbulence head on
What could I learn

I don't tell stories in the abstract
I tend to weave a single thread along the fabric
I could literally (figuratively) weave you a song

But what do I lose in the details
What are the views from above the abstract stratosphere
What could I see
Oh - oh - oh
Oh - oh - oh

I found a gray hair on your head and I thought
Maybe I could grow old with you
And it scared me
And I rarely trip on words
But here I did

I don't write music when I'm at a loss for words
I don't use music as the catalyst forwards
So as I struggle to articulate allow me to zoom out

What if I drop you
What if I can't pick you up when you fall
Should I write about that
No one would listen to that
It's a foggy metaphor
Am I right about that
So let me make my lyrics better
So you can't twist the words I said or
Misconstrue the meaning of the letter
What I really mean's a bit more literal
See I'm not talking to you at all

I want to have a kid
Kid I'm talking to you now
I will teach you, feed and speech you
'Til you reach your greatest heights
But what if I drop you
What if I can't pick you up when you fall

I don't write music when I'm frightened

So what did I learn from the journey
What did I earn from facing fears in front of a crowd
What did I find
A song