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The body as instrument,
Harmony and melody,
Like fingers playing strings,
Or tickling the ivory.
Joy's in store for the creative,
Composing with notable I.Q.'s
It comes from somewhere special,
Unmatched and all brand new.
If you're waiting for the New World,
To come to your own time,
Start singing from your soul,
And do it in your prime.
Music will not stop,
In all of people's hearts,
Thought provoking vocals,
Causes sound to turn to art.
The beat goes on,
They've said that all before,
With deep feelings of passion,
Is what will be in store.
The drum is the pulse,
That resides inside of all,
And if it stops pounding,
The world will go AWOL.

©1999-2019 Steve Bujanow

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Copyright©1999-2019 Steve Bujanow, Neocortex. All Rights Reserved.

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