I was staring at the stern facial features of
Ludwig Von Beethoven
And my prim piano teacher in her seventies
Thought I wasn’t listening
But despite my ADD, what she said to me
I remember perfectly
“Every Good Boy Does Fine”
There were venerated volumes of rhythm and melody
The grave embalmings of a language dead for a century
To read, to recite, to repeat
Without even thinking to learn to speak
‘Cause good boys do fine
Always hearing,
We never understand
We see without perceiving
And speak of what we can’t comprehend
Well, Mrs. H was unimpressed
Though I had practiced religiously
Never mind that I was practicing
To master Super Mario 3
And soon she put my memory behind her
And fired me with the biting reminder that
Every Good Boy Does Fine
So I was left to pursue my own endeavors
Saving pixelated princesses
While listening to records
So it was Shigeru Miyamoto
Who first introduced me to Sergeant Pepper
And his Lonely Hearts Club Band
(Garbled)
Sir Paul McCartney appeared to me in Day-Glo
With an english horn
Speaking words I thought were dead
Now strangely reborn
And I heard unearthly voices
That sang in distant doorways and rooms
He was conducting kite strings
Winds that filled me and I flew
And when I came to
I was trying to find with pen and ink
The passages to pass between our souls
Panning ordinary rivers on rumors of gold
And beside me in the coffee shops
They’re lost in dreams and visions
And they’re filling Moleskine notebooks
With their compositions
Like it’s a competition
(I guess it is?)
Now the harmony is written on my heart
Yeah, the language is on my tongue
And I barely understand it
But I’ve only just begun
I’ve only just begun
