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RARE isn’t just another adjective, So let me tell you now. He writes his pain into beautiful melodies And the way every word falls out of his mouth
I sucked it in through my breath and it sunk through my skin It expanded through my lungs and seeped into my blood stream
the bumping of the bass the crowed room the dimming of the lights the chanting the silhouette of the performer the rush of adrenaline that hits you there is no other feeling in the world
I guess the question is one thing I can't live without, however there are many. You see, life is based on essentials and bare necessity. Oxygen, food and water, but these are mundane.
A concert: a safe haven for the fluorescent adolescents who need music like blood that flows through lyrical shaped veins fueling a pumping heart, fingertips, a voice box. Smooth and soothing.
The air is sharp with winter anticipationComets with tails blazing: stage lightsHit upon the crowd, wondrousHis hair is Spanish moss thatHangs heavy from the oaks,festooned in beads and baubles
Semisweet sounds fill the robust emporium Sarcastically, kids mimic the beauty of the melodies Soulful tones melt over every seat; molding the auditorium T
There are some things I will never forget. Ten years from now, your smile as we walked through the park is all that I'll have left. I am grateful for the potency of these images,
Have you noticed me yet? The little burst of purple in that crowd, the one with her arms stretched high over her head. The one playing back directly whatever command the band gives.
It’s been a year, a year since I’ve been to a concert.
Music, The notes fall off the page You listen to the beat The melody that flows Tap your foot That’s the groove that you love to listen to Batcha The drums go
The sweeping sounds cascade out of the stage Bouncing around the room, Mixing with the cushioned chairs And the old-people smell. The brass blasts out a baleful melody
When in all despair, I go there Waiting in the wings Where heart will soar and spirit fly Waiting in the wings All goes dark on the scheduled mark Waiting in the wings
The theatre is all I know and love. I pour my pain into a role, hoping it will cease. But it never does. It's a curse to be an actor. It's not glamorous. It's not happy. It's not fame. It's not money.
It was a tale of two She was Hip He was Hop They met in a frequency That no other knew of At a pace so fast That they left others behind Since that moment They stood hand in hand
Music is my life Some would say it is my wife I will attend school for music education To get out of my current situation Music is a little seed That is now easy to read
It's that aching feeling That rush That spark in your pupils. As you look up, you see that man. He's commanding every soul in the room. How though? How can it be.