Again I sit with you, my old friend
And your strings are slightly worn and rusted
Again I pray for a muse, an inspiration
And my mind is blank, yet full of confusion
Again I play those same old love songs
And I wrote them long ago
Again I find Her in them
And She is perfect.
She was once my muse
She has no name
She doesn't need one
She is woman
A perfect woman
My perfect image
Again I find it strange to sit with you
And realize my desires
Again you remind me of love
And I wonder when I will feel it
Again I carefully place my fingers
And start anew, with a fresh perspective
Again I find myself,
And Her, in your song
She is my hope
She is faceless
She will have one
But not today
Until then
I sing
