When someone preaches culture, as scientifically as horticulture, Just stand up and let them know, enough of this farcical show, That you already have yours, and the rest of them, have theirs, Music comes about, as much from common sound,
Not to throw, whatever we can against the wall, Not to mouth, every profanity we can quickly recall, Not to vent out, pent up frustration into the community, Anger is there, to test our affinity for serenity. Not to cover
All around him, the houses abounded with festoons and bunting, And from every roof, miniature bells and stars were hanging, He had seen all this for quite some years now, But had never understood the significance of it somehow. All
When all that matters came to a standstill, you decided to finally move, Believing that walking away was the only way to surely prove, So you ran away, not knowing what the journey had in store, But soon stopped, when
The day was quiet, very much like the silence it brought, Soaking in the serenity that my existence has long sought, I wished music would beat noise to be today’s first sound, As I compel myself to fight back and