Testo Notebook

showed him my notebook The underside of my soul Released in the scribbles of pages He smiled and held my hand I knew that he would never see For he dreams of touching beauty, too There has to be more than the work day He's painting houses He's painting houses for awhile The home to his canvas Coming to life I write in my notebook With feelings that takes me by surprise And thoughts that I don't know I have They're hidden by useless facts That I've compiled at the office where I work Where there is no time for feeling anything You see, I just work there To finance my real life That begins with scribbles on pages And thoughts of "how" and "when" Museums on Sundays Whenever we can both go And stay there for hours Feeding our spirits Beauty is still free Beauty is not exclusive Beauty is ours to touch and to know To touch and know Don't you think there's more? I really have to know Don't you think there's more to life? Don't you think there's more to life?