Reality doesn't touch me when I sit here in my home, alone in twilight,
listening to Chopin, Chopin. Chopin. I have a running nose and a
running heart, some days when she is around, Ma says, I will
ruin her keyboard too, my running fingers dooming
keys that make no music, trying to grasp reality-
and yet I know, I don't touch it
and it doesn't touch
me.
listening to Chopin, Chopin. Chopin. I have a running nose and a
running heart, some days when she is around, Ma says, I will
ruin her keyboard too, my running fingers dooming
keys that make no music, trying to grasp reality-
and yet I know, I don't touch it
and it doesn't touch
me.
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