It's only lyrics and chords and the woes of heartache spewing through a microphone" he said. "Thats the beauty of it all" she replied. "The great heartache of the 21st century.
The foundation of our cds, our speakers, our radios, our iPods, that stream into our ears causing our brains to react in all different ways.
It's the anticipation of that well thought out mixtape you were just given.
Maybe I'm just crazy or maybe its the melody that causes me to beat to my own drum
but it's like when you're laying in bed or in a car full of friends or smitten by another
and you hit shuffle and that one song comes on, you know that one where you unknowingly make it louder, and theres a silent hum for two seconds then it all clicks in unison.
It's the words we wish we could've said but didn't know how to structure into a sentence.
It's the headphones delivering mental photographs in your mind.
It's that song that when you play it again it brings you back to that significant moment in time. The great heartache of a musician whose lyrics are carefully stitched together thoughts that all relate to us. It's what makes music come alive, the people around us, they are music.
They are the basis to the lyrics that we see written down on paper.
They are each letter, each word, each chorus.
We are the people they are aching over. We are the "he" or "she" that they are singing too.
I know you're at a loss for words but maybe thats the start to your own music,
an instrumental. A drum, a guitar, a keyboard.
Just waiting to be held and played. Aren't we all just like that in some way or another?"
He blankly stared and didn't even realize
his hand reaching to turn up the radio
because on came the song that made him think of her.
Ten minutes of my thoughts put in story form.
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