I Want To Be An Instrument

I want to be an instrument
to be used for a purpose
to always be composed
and in some sort of form

Giving pleasure to great numbers
hands moving up and down me
while I'm sleeping or standing
(it's all the same to me)

I'd get credit for being used
They would all tinker with me
and call me cute, trying to show off
but they don't understand how I work

My collaborator will win a prize
and I'll get to travel around
going places but I'll always speak the language
potential talent at any moment

I'd work to drown the applause
all for me (if I don't blow it)
the people would ask where I came from
fans asking what's my name

I could never be blamed; if I
don't show up, I'm not lost, just misplaced
though the air'd be stuffy, where I live
after my glory, they'd ignore me.

Come to think of it,
I am one...