I sat down on the bench,
Reached out to play,
There were people all around,
But I did it anyways.
My hands, they traveled up the keys --
They danced, they soared, they twirled,
My fingers, they played, happy then sad,
Slow, then faster they whirled...
The music, it seemed to run away;
The notes, their sound was fleeting.
My hands, they kept moving,
Away from each other, then once again meeting.
I neared the end of the song,
I tapped the last key,
And those others and I listened to
The music, which was floating and free.
I did not care what those people thought,
My music, it frees my mind.
Those others, they can mock me if they want,
But when I play, I go other places, never knowing what I will find.