Listening to you... butchering... my music is... painful. The notes you play are out of tune and the way you use your music to fiddle with the individual strings is downright infuriating.
Even your rhythm — which is better than my own when you’re in your element — suffers when your clumsy hooves meander over the keys.

But every time I work myself up over it there’s this memory... I’ll see your smiling face, and hear you say, “And once I’m good we’ll go touring together.”

And when I remember your reason for doing it, I can’t help but smile.