I would die one thousand horrible deaths...
just to see her smile at me from the other side of her pain.
But I wonder if even that would be enough...

I was told so often that I was a natural leader.
Swift and decisive, unhesitant, strong of will and spirit.
I was praised for my "artistic" side, and my creativity.
Most of all i suppose for my slender nimble hands,
caressing so often the Ivory and Ebony.

Somewhere along the line I lost all of those things.
and my hands have become broad and calloused.

The True me may have been hard to find the last two to three years.
and for the last eight at least I've been withering away.
Like a bouquet of flowers not willing to be cast away.
I can promise now I'm sure,
you'll never find me so weak again,
I may still be hard to find,
But if you look to the west;
I'll be the man in front.