White keys, black keys... a total mess. White keys, black keys... just a wild guess. Searching for the light, but finding only noise. Searching for the light, lost in the poise.

Midnight in the city, she’s fighting the keys. Begging for a melody, down on her knees. Ten clumsy fingers, they’ve got a mind of their own, Like heavy lead weights, or a garden stone. She slams a chord, and the room starts to wince, It hasn't sounded like music, not ever, not since. It’s a broken rhythm, it’s a sour line. It’s definitely not "fine." It’s never "fine."

In the middle of the racket, in the middle of the dark, Not a single "C major" is hitting the mark. Just two clean notes in this sea of wrong, The only real talent in this "so-called" song: One is a meow, mocking and sweet, One is a howl, mocking the beat.

Two clean notes. (And they aren't hers.) Two clean notes. (The cat and the dog.)

She’s sweating so hard, she’s failing so deep, While the metronome laughs and the neighbors can't sleep. Wrong note, sharp note, flat and cold, A symphony of errors, painfully bold. She tries a scale, but it trips and it falls, While the cat hits the pitch, answering the calls. The dog knows the blues better than she ever will, While she’s stuck at the bottom of a very steep hill.

She’s faking. She’s aching. She’s trying. The piano is crying. The wood is screaming, "Please, just let me be!" She’s a captive of the bench, and she’s lost the key.

One meow (Perfectly tuned). One howl (A masterpiece crooned).

In the middle of the racket, in the middle of the dark, Not a single "C major" is hitting the mark. Just two clean notes in this sea of wrong, The only real talent in this "so-called" song: One is a meow, mocking and sweet, One is a howl, mocking the beat.

White keys, black keys. (Discord and pain) White keys, black keys. (Practicing in vain) She says she’ll get it soon... But the moon just hid... And the dog just hid... Silence is the only tune.