Strumming strings, beaten drums, cascading piano keys sweeter than crashing waves, however it comes, music is the drug. Lyrics, primal in screamed out words or etheric with haunting timbres and hushed low sounds, mumbled and googled for meaning. Sometimes that doesn’t even matter. It is the rhythm, how it repeats, the song constantly playing in my head. I am lost on mountain peaks to voices speaking in ancient tongue. Traveling on sheer emotion, lifted up, inspired, romanced, energized, brought down, the sad song, singing away my blues. Books are the soul of my eyes, songs, the heart of my ears.