| There’s a railing by the steps which you often ignore
|
| As you guide your little body from floor to floor
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| And you hear my music and you ask for more
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| Dancing like a spirit through the open door
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| There’s a feeling to the keys smiling white and black
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| That you play from the bench with a special knack
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| And you won’t play long but you’ll soon be back
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| Sounding out the rhythm of your heart
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| With practice you will fly with ease like a bird
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| There are songs and poems to be heard
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| You are not the kind to sit and rest
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| You will soar beyond your happy nest
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| There’s a beater for the drum that the natives made
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| As they dreamed of the rhythm
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| And the hand that would play
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| When you hold that stick and the beat is laid
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| We are filled with the music that will never fade
|
| We are filled with the music that will never fade
|
| You will fly with ease like a bird
|
| There are songs and poems to be heard
|
| You are not the kind to sit and rest
|
| You will soar beyond…
|
| There’s a railing by the steps which you often ignore
|
| As you guide your little body from floor to floor
|
| And you hear my music and you ask for more
|
| Dancing like a spirit through the open door
|
| Dancing like a spirit through the open door |