I only play with my black keys,
My lovely black keys.
The only keys I can trust
Keys I can put my faith in
The white keys don't understand me
The white keys
Play a tune that I find too melodic..
Too frantic of a tone
To truly exemplify
The actual tune I live by
They only seem to play
This harsh façade I carry myself by
A lie that I refuse to hear
That I refuse to let leave my fingers
Onto these keys.
So I stick to my black keys,
Whose sound is somewhat bittersweet
But plays the tune I seem to live by
No false sounds have ever escaped
My black keys
White keys only play the good,
They only sound off
What's beautiful and elegant
But I believe the soundtrack to my life
Is far from "White"
My life is "Black"
shuddered and misunderstood.
Not musically satisfied, but true to its sound.
Harmonized in its complexity,
Leaked by my fingertips
The white keys help me a great deal.
To play a song without every resource
Is to live life
Through saturated eyes.
So, I don't avoid my white keys,
I simply stick to the black.
The truth of me, the song I illustrate.
The sound my life murmurs.
Until the silent movement of my fingertips
Can hover over the mute keys
I call "White"