For the Poet, there is the Rhyme, to add meaning to his writing.
For the Songwriter there are the Lyrics, to give his tunes some feeling.
For the Musician there are the Notes, to bring the Night alive.
But what is left for the Typist, except the hollow click-clack of the Keys?
Yes, what is left for the Typist; surely he works as hard as the Rest?
It seems that Nothing is left for the Typist, although he does his best.
