I Don't Write Music

I don't write music when I'm happy I don't write songs when I'm particularly sad I wait for the rushing of the waters to subside But what do I lose in the calm What if I choose to face the turbulence head on What could I learn I don't tell stories in the abstract I tend to weave a single thread along the fabric I could literally (figuratively) weave you a song But what do I lose in the details What are the views from above the abstract stratosphere What could I see Oh - oh - oh Oh - oh - oh I found a gray hair on your head and I thought Maybe I could grow old with you And it scared me And I rarely trip on words But here I did I don't write music when I'm at a loss for words I don't use music as the catalyst forwards So as I struggle to articulate allow me to zoom out What if I drop you What if I can't pick you up when you fall Should I write about that No one would listen to that It's a foggy metaphor Am I right about that So let me make my lyrics better So you can't twist the words I said or Misconstrue the meaning of the letter What I really mean's a bit more literal See I'm not talking to you at all I want to have a kid Kid I'm talking to you now I will teach you, feed and speech you 'Til you reach your greatest heights But what if I drop you What if I can't pick you up when you fall I don't write music when I'm frightened So what did I learn from the journey What did I earn from facing fears in front of a crowd What did I find A song