Back in the day music was good.
We enjoyed ourself no matter what part of town.
From the shotguns, to the high-rises.
The urge that instantly becomes testimonial.
Immediately we'd feel better soon as the music plays.
We'd forget everything else.
Like millions of feet echoing through our ears.
Our body reacts.
The experience of true euphoria when the music takes over.
Suddenly the load doesn't seem so heavy.

From the condos to the slums.
The mark of an era.
Going on down the road.
Nothing to do but walk.
Strut your strut.
The struggle to be free.
The stratosphere doesn't seem all so far.
The absolute rule of thumb.
Coming alive blowing out the dust,
The relationship between artist to listener.
To welcome birth.
The experience of it all.
Nothing but the road in front.
Strutting along.
Living, breathing.
To enjoy yourself no matter what part of town.
From projects to burb.
To step off the curb leave work behind. 

Dance the block.

Clocking out.
Stepping to life.

Some of the best memories ever

the wolves whisper their dreams into the night sky, they roam the land in search of time. the moon is full, vibrating white electricity, making each coat of fur metallic and bright. the wind dances in delight, knowing what mysteries are held for this night. the majestic wolves hear a sweet melody in the distance, together they run, step for step, beat to beat they climb. they continue to speak to the sky, beautiful poems they write to the moon. there is no alpha, just one and one, an unspoken promise that is said and done, knowing they are gods of each other, they run side by side, still worshiping the ground as they move. the stream bubbles with expectant excitement, feeling the earths music through each drop. he ***** his head to the side, listening to each sprinkle of magic flowing around him. he looks at her, so beautiful, more so than a diamond, more so than a ruby, even better than gold, his soul speaks to her soul. his breath is dependent on hers, his blood flows for her. they continue their trek, through the calming hills. she would never leave him, he is her essence, together they follow the sound of life. aware of the nearness of each other, aware of the flow of energy between them, they carry forth. nearer, and nearer they come, the sounds slow as they speak another poem, to the moon, to each other and in reply to earths' song. together they come upon a wide open land, they are wrapped in the moons glow, the streams excitement, and the mountains peaceful hue. she tilts to him, and bows to her king, the pounding in her heart matches his. he bows too, ready for her hand, ready to begin, ready for forever;where they will roam their peace filled meadow of love, life and the music of eachother.

When I love someone I give her ALL OF ME.
But when she loves someone else all I ask is - WHY NOT ME?

How can you leave me hanging when I wanna SEE YOU AGAIN?
The thought of finding a WAY BACK INTO LOVE makes me insane.

I wanna STAND BY YOU even when we'll be walking with the help of a staff.
And if you'll leave me, I'll spend the rest of my life looking at your PHOTOGRAPH.

I don't wanna get to a stage where I'll have to say - WE DON'T TALK ANYMORE.
I've always imagined ourselves loving each other till DAYLIGHT knocks at our door.

I have loved you from the bottom of my heart TRULY, MADLY & DEEPLY.
And If you want, I can say I LOVE YOU bending on my knee.

But it's not possible because whenever I feel I've found my COVER GIRL,
Everybody around me wanna STEAL MY GIRL.

And if you're just a dream then DON'T WAKE ME UP that's all I can say.
I'll wake up for sure, but I know it's NOT TODAY.

You're something beautiful
Something I call mine
Our bodies intertwine
But it is cold without the love
There is more that we could have.
I guess it is over
For I know you hate me
It is okay.
I’ll hate you if you did what I did
It's okay, it is over

Someone once told me that I am a slow song starting to accelerate.  
At Larghissio, I have a calm demeanor.
Not the calm of a warm sunny day.
But a somber calm where I slowly slit a person's throat whilst listening to classical music.
Grave is where things gets mixed with feelings but where I refused to acknowledge it.
The trend today is dead inside.
But hey, the shade my mother threw at me about my grades during dinner is at the back of my head.
Largo is a little dangerous.
My father is trying to communicate to the four-year-old little girl that was swallowed down along with his drugs.
I am no longer dead inside when I acknowledge that it's wrong.
Adagietto is a fancy word.
So is dementia.  
Now, it's harder to stand in front of the grandfather who can't remember me.
Hurt is an emotion.
Andante means I am hurt.
With hurt, I think one loses rationale.
Moderato is for moderate.
But, at moderato, hurt has led me to my anxiety cabin.
Hereon, the walls I have created around me becomes a physical embodiment when all I do is stay in my room.
I want to slow down the pace.
But now, I am starting to hear more than one song.
Some of it, I am singing on my own.
All of it, at Allegro.
My blanket was my hero at Allegro.
I named it 'Depression' and I wore it all the time to cover my ears.
As for rationale, there being none, I found myself and all my songs at Vivace.
The most vivid was my mothers'.
She'd often peek through my walls.
Sing a heavy metal song about my disobedience of wearing depression.
When she got tired, she'd stop singing.
Now, I am left with my songs at Allegro and the distant voice of my grandfather who sings for himself at Larghissio.
The more I try to grasp the lullaby of my grandfather, the faster my songs rise to Vivace.
I am strong but not strong enough to sing multiple songs at Vivace.
Respectively, often these days, I fear that all of my songs would abruptly stop at Presto.
But, on most days, I think about falling back to the next song on your playlist, and it doesn't matter at what tempo.