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.