Escape

High on the dresser he keeps me. A contrite smile upon my face, Turning to the beautiful music. He takes care of me, I suppose. He never removes me from my careful place As I turn, turn, turn to the music. I watch as people come and go And admire my simple beauty, Although he never lets them close. No dust, no speck shall fall on me. I am his figurine. No love, no smile, no warmth, Just music As I turn, turn, turn, turn. I Watch as people come and go And admire my simple beauty, Although he never lets them close. No dust, no speck shall fall on me. I am his figurine.