I am a child of music

Saturday mornings (ting, ting, ti, ti, ting ah ting, ting) sweet calypso playing as we clean the house. The rthym flowing through me as I wipe down the glass shelves in the living room. I am a child of music. Saturday nights at Granite, the basement is packed, DJ Preto on the turntables spinning the latest sounds while we kids peeked at the door, watching the adults whinning and gyrating; enjoying themselves. I am a child of music. Labor Day Weekend; Kiddies Carnival, costume on, marching our way to the museum in unison to the soca playing from the truck. Let's see which band is better, oh gosh but we are tired, feet burning, sweat pouring down our little faces and we're whinning. I am a child of music.