A charming young man on a boring old day
Sat with his guitar, and began to play.

His angelic wings cushioned his back.
So soft and pure, in color, they did not lack.

His calloused hands plucked at the strings.
The notes that he played were such beautiful things.

The notes and the scales would soon evolve into a song.
written on the air... It would not last long.

A song that would never be matched again.
Each day, his songs were different but the same

Each song held a purpose, whatever it was.
It was up to the listener to interpret its cause.