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    Watching old home movies, the seeds so evident

    Little did I know back then what my tapping fingers meant

    A compulsive urge to hum a tune, to touch a piano key

    In every sound and rhythmscape, I found a piece of me

    The picture began to become more clear,

    my purpose more firmly grounded

    The day I sat at my brother's drums,

    picked up his sticks and pounded

    I felt the ceiling open up, heart and mind were lifted

    This primal force convincing me, my goals in life had shifted

    Then I learned a few guitar chords just to seal the deal

    The power of music I could not ignore, the surge inside

    me real

    I plucked away at Misfits' tapes 'til I could play along

    Then came the happiest day I've known- when I wrote my first song

    A few interruptions since, I'm back where I belong-

    pen and paper, sticks and strings, the quest for the

    perfect song

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