my heart beats against the piano keys in my chest, like thumper's little rabbit legs, playing a song just for you.
i don't know if you'll listen, maybe take a minute or two if you have time, there's no hurry, it'll still be beating and playing like a music box when you get there. take your time, smell the roses, i'll show you a beating heart and you'll give me a broken one.
even on a broken music box the song will still play, strained and whining and scraping metal-on-metal pain and it'll hurt but the music will still play, still be there, still engraved and waiting for someone.
someone to come along who knows how to repair it and knows exactly what a broken music box needs, to make it play right again. make the sound come out all clean and sparkly angelic pure beautiful instead of dirty and broken and rotting tarnished metal scraping scraping scraping disgusting
oh you heard the song? did you like it, what did you think? yeah, that's what i thought you might say. it's a little out of tune, i never did know how to word things properly, did i? no, that's more your area, isn't it? you word things so perfectly don't you?
i know you didn't care for this genre anyway, my bad, sorry i brought it up, sorry i asked, just pretend you never heard it, i didn't spend long on it. i never spend long on it and you never care for it, and after all that's best, don't you think?