I had always wanted to write music, a seducing one, like I am walking on a river of a spiral staircase with a charmer beside me, humming. This velvet touch of his greasy palms on my waist makes me want the desire of writing music all the more, emphatically.
11 in the morning, I feel like playing my fellowship tune.
Would you be kind to say “Darling, I am back”?
There is a potion, get drunk with me, solely, lonely. The air smells good, my music is roaring, the river is proud, what else? Lets construct more of it! I am expecting moon in an hour, Wow! I love these times. Your awkward examples are setting up my awful tastes, I think we are getting better.
I plan to own an opera, distinctly private, did I spill it? By the way, am I getting old, twenty or something- old? The floor is mindful enough to show me the reflection but where do I find the extremities of the music beneath me. I feel the answer is only vague, not unknown. It shall find its way, in me. Lets write the theme together.
Will always believe in your sound!I suppose it’s here, calling for me –