Life is such a funny thing,

See, we search our whole lives for happiness,

but the feeling I get, listening to someone sing?

Man, its indescribable, its simply the best.

The gentle sound of an acoustic guitar,

being carefully and skillfully strummed,

It just makes you lose sense of where you are,

and to the music you are helplessly succumbed.

The rhythmic flow of beating drums,

The distant cousin of the metronome,

Very stringent on keeping time, always was,

Straying only shortly before returning home.

Black and white don't seem so melodic,

I know, to say the least their just shades of course,

but large stands the piano, laid keys upon it,

and even larger than that, pertains its voice.

Beneath it all sneaks such a sound,

A rumbling beast who shakes the room,

The rope in which such art is bound,

The bass explodes, the speakers boom.

So simple is are these instruments,

The tools that build our minds creations,

Made with basic implements,

yet they harness our great imaginations.

Now, Everyday we search and search,

For happiness and money and then we use it,

We search for things beyond us, we go to church,

When all we really need, is music.