What do you see,
When you look into my eyes?
A girl deprived beyond recognition?
Someone who's hurt,
Full of pain and suffering.
But no,
A musician lies behind these eyes.
Strong minded,
But weak at heart,
Sensitive to every word,
Every song,
Every poem,
Every breath,
Itâ??s full of compassion,
Full of hope,
Full of life.
Itâ??s their trail of thoughts.
What do you hear,
When I speak?
A choir singing softly in a church?
A rock band performing at a concert?
But no,
That voice is of a musician.
Strong and powerful,
Serious or sad,
Full of love and understanding.
Every word that is spoken,
Has a meaning of itâ??s own.
Like the lyrics of a song,
They are meant to show emotions,
Without loosing your mind.
And without the fear of being lost,
In your own emotional ties.
When you look at me,
What do you see?
A dancer with strong legs?
An author with a bright mind of ideas?
But no, you see a musician.
Eyes tired from sleepless nights.
Callused fingers from guitar of piano every day.
Clothes randomly distributed any way possible,
And hair is stat icky from a day of recording.
Musicians are the same as everyone else.
But deep inside their eyes,
In their voice,
And on the outside,
Musicians live their own lives.
Full of compassion,
Love,
And music.
