My father's pride
Was in his hands.
The piano was his soul.
I watched and wondered
As he played show tunes
Miles off from rock and roll.
What he loved he taught me.
Now music's what I do.
And often when I'm writing,
In my hands, dad's there too.
If I sing you are the music.
If I fly you're why I'm put.
If my hands can find some magic
You're the one who said they could.
If the child that's still inside me
Finds a song in empty air.
When there is joy in making music
It is you who put it there.
My dad grew old.
His hands were numb.
And now he cannot play.
I came to visit.
He sat and asked me
"How can it be this way?"
I couldn't find an answer.
I played this tune for him instead.
My father sat there smiling
For he knew what it said.
If I sing you are the music.
If I love you taught me how.
Every day your heart is beating
In the man that I am now.
If my ears are tuned to wander.
If when I reach the chords are there.
When there is joy in making music,
It's a joy that we both share.
I never told you.
It took time till I could see
That if I sing you are the music
And you'll always sing in me.
Yes you'll always live in me.
