They’re dots that jump from line to line
On a paper that looks like a racing track
Some are open, drawing a little circle
Like tic-tac-toe, all stacked back-to-back

Other dots have curly grace,
Like fancy stars that brightly gleam,
Join them all and find beautiful sounds,
And your ship will sail straight to a dream.

But for that, you’ll need some aid,
From friends who sound from self to self,
And while you seek the ones who’ll help,
What you’ll find lies within yourself.