Like a sculptor who finds himself with a marble slab
The sculptor removes everything that is not the statue
That's it, my pattern

We have the same tempo but not the same pattern
We have the same tempo
But not the same pattern

We have the same tempo but not the same pattern
We have the same tempo
But not the same pattern

We have the same tempo but not the same pattern
We have the same tempo
But not the same pattern

We have the same tempo but not the same pattern
We have the same tempo
But not the same pattern

We sing the same melody
We sing the same melody
But not with the same harmonies
I sing at this octave
And me at this octave
I sing the same words
Not quite the same words, not quite the same words
Not quite the same words, not quite the same words
Not quite the same words, not quite the same words
Not quite the same words
Exactly the same words, exactly the same words
The same words

Do you like making music with me?
Oh yes, I like making music with you
Look over there, the sun is reddening

I play the synth for you
I play the guitar for you
I play the piano for you
I play the flute for you

We play the same melody
We play the same melody, but not with the same sound
And it makes us less stupid, and it makes us less stupid
And it makes us less stupid, and it makes us less stupid

And it makes us less stupid
And it makes us less stupid

We have the same tempo but not the same pattern
We have the same tempo
But not the same pattern
We have the same tempo but not the same pattern
We have the same tempo
But not the same pattern

We have the same tempo but not the same pattern
We have the same tempo
But not the same pattern
We have the same tempo but not the same pattern
We have the same tempo
But not the same pattern

And life, it has a tempo
But this tempo imposes a grid on us
Of seven days a week
Twenty-four hours a day
Sixty minutes per hour
And many seconds
And we, we have to decide
What do we remove
To get to our own pattern?
Our pattern that is not dull
That is never dull

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