House of Pianos

Old white house full of overlapping;
Where every room has keys,
and the songs never stop playing.
Why can’t I seem to find my room?

I march through walls of floral,
Between marble tabletops,
and under chipping white paint.
Each place I go seems to keep a part of me.

Sometimes I am so scared; what if
everything I do brings me back to
the beginning I keep trying to escape?
I just want to remember mother’s voice.

Scarlet dreams, cinnamon candles, warm
fireplaces, joyous singing, holding one another,
words of wisdom, colored glass, wintery gardens,
steamy breath, bundles of joy, and you and me.

God knows my heart, and I know his.
So even if the train takes me elsewhere
I will still rest easy, assured of my travels.
I only dream of when love finds me here.

Seconds of life are fading, where did I go?
This house of pianos has me so confused.
My song is playing somewhere, and
I just need to keep opening doors.

I can see it so clearly, as if a memory,
that has yet to happen but still lingers in my mind.
You’ll be there beneath the sunbeams,
and when I walk in it won’t matter where we’re from.

All that will matter is where we are,
and who we’re with, for the only thing that matters
is love, and I’m dusting myself off and getting back up.
I sincerely hope you’re on the other side of the next door.

December winds, flickering stars, cool
minty chocolates, soft white snow, hinting,
smiles and laughter, hallelujah, and
then of course you and me together.

Our songs will play together.
Inside the house of pianos we will find
that the other was simply before us
and the sweetest love anyone could write about.