As my finger, triggers the sound
My heart ululates, in intoxication
Remembrance, is a gift in itself
Indescribable feelings, leading me forward
Being described, through each line I hear
Nostalgia, a joyous feat
The world's halt, is known
My feet, the only moment shown
Care for those who see, denied by the symphony
Where profanity bears no existence
A freed soul, does possess me
The understanding; mutualistic
Each word, mine as it is theirs
My mind, so accustom that copyright is forgotten
Add my own, I try
Though they who brought fame, made it gold
Treasures, will I never relinquish
A reprieve from my pain, offered through their show
Adrenaline, does it move me so
Motions, are they mine to control
My clothes, never asking to leave
To love, a possibility told once more
As they speak of great loss
Findings do resonate, in my being
The group, one with the groove
With pride they express, not chasing the background
Their voices, not guised by theatrics
Their arrival, a grace to my ears
Excessive sales, a want at most
To empathize with the listener, their only goal
Their personal lives, unquestioned
Hope is all I desire, from their shared experience
Never met, but always a friend
When others left, standing by in grief
Maybe my art, unmoving to them
Their art will remain timeless, to me
With my pain, have they empathized
A resonating nostalgia, plays through their timeless words
My findings, a cure to a cause
