There's a lot of pressure in the lungs inside my chest, and I know that I'll be dead if I don't release it. You've shown me the way, but it's time I make my own. Now I'd really like to know if you can keep a secret. It's my time to go, I can feel. My head is pounding, the melody resounding in my ears. I may fear the worst, and I hope my nerves will ease up and my memory won't freeze up before I'm through.
What if this is my last chance to play for you? There's no future engagement you can hold me to. What if every song I've ever written for you was gone, like you never knew?
Memory deceives me. Then again, I never knew if these people ever truly believed me. So now, what have I done? Is ambition still enough? If I faded out of frame, would you still need me to sing your lullabies? Take my picture from a still frame. And underneath, you can write my name in bright blue. And softly hum the music, let it soothe you, let it hold you. Let it wrap you in a warm, melodic tune.
Can I make a correction to everything I've said? I'm going to sit beside you, when you're lying in your bed. When the fever that's inside you gives you a fight, I will sing you through the night.