i carry your bell with me(i carry it in)

i carry your bell with me(i carry it in
my horn)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my good sir;and whatever is done
by only me is the horn section's doing,my friend)
                                                      i fear
no flat(for you are my flat,my sharp)i want
no unison(for noble you are my perfect fourth,my octave true)
and it's you are whatever a metronome has always meant
and whatever a solfege will always sing is you
                                                      (tick, tick)
here is the deepest engraving nobody knows
(here is the root of the chord and the bud of the trill
and the color of the texture of a score called life;which grows
higher and more enthusiastically than flute can hope or piccolo can hide)
and this is the truth that's keeping the orchestra together

i carry your bell(i carry it in my horn)