Becky's playing a piece by gershwin on her old piano

She's been playing since her childhood, "too long to recall..."

But the chords that fall from her fingertips, are the same

She played when she could barely sit still, back in `69,

When the keys made her hands look small



And she built her dream around symphonies and concertos

Around traveling the country, and playing the music halls

Four kids later the dreams been reduced to "what-if" scenarios

But hey, to never dream is to have never lived at all

Never lived at all



Dave's a corporate lawyer in the city of chicago

And for fifteen years, he's had his nose to the old grindstone

Poured his money in the bank to feed the beast called portfolio

Well, if time is money then success is a life alone



You can look out at the skyline for some forgiveness

When you invest in love, the same will be returned

He has prided himself on a lifetime of spoken directness

It took him forty years to hear the lesson learned

Has he never lived at all?

Never lived at all...



Never lived at all



The great american novel sits on top of peter's kitchen table

300 pages on a town he built inside of his head

He signs the cover page, uncorks the bottle with the dusty label

Pours his wife a glass, she says "baby, bring the bottle to bed"



At 6 am he's out fighting the cars on the freeway

And fighting his manuscript, has he written his own downfall?

But he'll embrace rejection, he'll kiss the seal of each envelope

Better to live in hope than to never have lived at all

To never live at all

Never live at all




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