Watching old home movies, the seeds so evident
Little did I know back then what my tapping fingers meant
A compulsive urge to hum a tune, to touch a piano key
In every sound and rhythmscape, I found a piece of me
The picture began to become more clear,
My purpose more firmly grounded
The day I sat at my brother's drums,
Picked up his sticks and pounded
I felt the ceiling open up, heart and mind were lifted
This primal force convincing me, my goals in life had shifted
Then I learned a few guitar chords just to seal the deal
The power of music I could not ignore, the surge inside
Me real
I plucked away at Misfits' tapes 'til I could play along
Then came the happiest day I've known- when I wrote my first song
A few interruptions since, I'm back where I belong-
Pen and paper, sticks and strings, the quest for the
Perfect song
