You are the moon that breaks the night . You are the fear that I hate to fight. Times are wrong in all that is done. My treasure is love that I give to only one. Cherrish the treasures given to your heart and never let anything hurt from the start. You chose your path so accept and believe, that peace love and light are needed to breathe.
The music defied classification. If I had been writing areview of the show, I would have labeled it progressive,guitar-driven rock ___ roll. But the guitars made sounds guitarsdidn__ always make. Symphonic sounds. Sacred sounds.The music dug in so deep you didn__ hear it so much as feelit, reminding me of a dream I used to have when I was a kid,where I would be standing on a street corner, I would jumpinto the air, flap my arms, and soar up into the sky.That__ the only way I could describe the music.It was the sonic equivalent of flight.
How to Kill a Rock Star
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The music defied classification. If I had been writing areview of the show, I would have labeled it progressive,guitar-driven rock ___ roll. But the guitars made sounds guitarsdidn__ always make. Symphonic sounds. Sacred sounds.The music dug in so deep you didn__ hear it so much as feelit, reminding me of a dream I used to have when I was a kid,where I would be standing on a street corner, I would jumpinto the air, flap my arms, and soar up into the sky.That__ the only way I could describe the music.It was the sonic equivalent of flight.
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With my guitar, I could write my own stories, my own poems, and my own destiny. No one could take away the feelings, the emotions or the truth of my notes. They could hide secrets and provoke images of words that never should be whispered. I could compose the melody of my aching heart and write into it my own happily ever after since no one seemed to think after all my suffering I deserved one. That's okay, I would make my own.
I want to wake up every day I have left to the warmth of your lips on mine, the sound of your voice singing next to me, the feel of your fingers on my skin and your heart beating music with mine.
...The means of choice:She might choose to ascendThe falling dream,By some angelic power without a nameReverse the motion, plunge into upwardness,Know height without an end,Density melt to air, silence yield a voice--Within her fall she felt the pull of Grace.
If life throws you a few bad notes or vibrations, don't let them interrupt or alter your song.
I enjoy melancholic music and art. They take me to places I don't normally get to go.