It’s beautiful. The rhythm. The instruments

blending to construct a uniform of posse-

ssing noises. The voices cascading

   together to create a melody, one

     quite similar to sweet dew on

       flowers in the bright, early

        morning. It fills you until

           you feel the wonde-

             rful notes within

             your very being.

           The tones dance a-

          round you until you

        are nothing but that. T-

      he different feels of each

   individual song are incredible.

They can either make you feel as

if anything is possible, as if there is

no greater sadness than your own,

as if you are the best thing in the w-

orld to someone, as if you are not

  who you are but who you alwa-

   ys wish to be, or as if even th-

     e most substantial disadva-

      ntages can never lift the

       brilliant veil of the warm,

          fuzzy happy you are

                  drunk on.

                   It’s as if

                    in that

                   one mi-

                 niscule m-

              oment, you a-

           re free of everyth-

       ing and nothing could

   possibly be anything oth-

  er than jubilant. These chor-

ds remain in your head and you

can change them on will like a radio.

They give you a needed distraction, a

relief from the pressure, an ungodly am-

ount of confidence, or even just something

to center yourself around. The patterns make that overbearing uncertainty

melt from your mind to puddles of woe on the ground. The alluring collections of each portion make

an enchanting thing that will forever be commemorated

in the minds of others.