There's a little black box
There's a little black box with a little brown brush
And endless colored paint for an impossibly white wall.
Holding my brush, I stare at the wall,
But I find myself drawing a blank.
There is a book with no pages and a song with no notes
That we're told we must copy and play.
And, though I've words in my mind and tunes in my ear,
This canvas is a workspace too grand.