... (XII)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNSH8OdHx2A&ab_channel=TheVelvetUnderground-Topic

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                I

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See, if he were a snare drum

She’d proudly find his rhythm:

Knock him about the uvula

Like a speed bag at the gym.

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See, were he a woodwind

She’d go searching for his reed:

Hunting down the lynchpin

As Apollo did Achilles.

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See, if he were strings

She’d happily see them frayed;

See, were he a piano

She’d steal his keys away.

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                II

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And still, amidst the torment,

The pleasure and the pain,

He'd loved her more than music

And had never much to say.

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From far before the first

And until his dying day …

He’d rather have been 

Her instrument

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Than ever to’ve played.

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