White Whale

I know the theory, book the time, the music's deep within me I write the words and find the rhymes, but lack a great melody I get so far, then stop cold dead, there is no inspiration With pen in hand, I face with dread, the product's perspiration Where is the song? Where is the tune? I'm frozen with frustration The words are there, and none too soon. It's just a straight narration But in my head, the song is there, it cannot find the instrument I try to sing, a sad affair, the failure now seems imminent Oh what a trial, oh what a test, oh what an solid fail I've wasted time, I must confess, my schedule is derailed I will not quit, I carry on, a tiny tune intrigues me I fashion words, seem's a new dawn, but once again fatigues me This drought, it seems, cannot prevail. It's only temporary The final goal, my own white whale, will be extraordinary.