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Robert L. Martin

Music Slaves

Music Slaves
 
Those floating eyes up in the sky
Sounds looking for a place to land
Eager vagabonds in their wandering
And strolling minstrels on a maiden voyage
 
Angels opened up their hearts and sang
Melodies cleansed by the dews of heaven
Virgin streams, passion unbound, joy acclaimed
Trumpets sending hope to the forsaken
 
A man sits at his piano and ponders
How to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary
A simple note into a celestial dream
A stream of pride into an ocean of modesty
 
Come to me, thy breath of heaven
Make me a slave to your every thought or whim
Servitude is a creed inscribed upon my brow
Never shall I wipe away what is written
When the wings of freedom come to take me away
I shall make sure they’re of tuneful nature’s
I’m forever yours

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