Music Inside

Music Inside

With a one in three hundred million chance of winning the lottery

You still went out and bought tickets for you and for me

But you bought us the chance to say our dreams out loud

To really speak our hopes, and even write them down

And you can't put a price on the riches of our dreams

In my favorite poem that's been written about hope,

It's not a thing with feathers – it's a rat that does coke

And shows up the next day for work, no worse for the wear.

And though I'm usually scrappy, with my eyes on the moon,