These Talking Keys Are the Keys To His Heart

THESE TALKING KEYS ARE THE KEYS TO HIS HEART Oh no, here comes the one who ever draws nigh And with words he’ll sit here and cry Now he’s tapping on our ebony letters All to explain the pain of nothing ever getting any better He’s typing something about if only today had tomorrow’s eyes Then nothing would ever be a startling surprise The typist would then have known when to connect And the things he’s offered that he should reject Yes, I knew he’d get to this part Trying to say, in a different way, that his is an aching heart He’s typed our letters that formed words with the same old themes And if today had tomorrow’s eyes he’d recognize its scathing schemes I suppose he believes we can help in some meaningful way But as for me I have veritably nothing to say Only we don’t begin hammering on him with lead As his hands become separated from his heart and his head Well all you keys can sit here and obey his commands or stop listening and obeying the typist’s demands Let’s type him the words with no conjecture nor lies Since the typist should cease wishing that today had tomorrow’s eyes © 2011.…..free cee!