The music is our ecstasy,
our drug.
We are at the brink of addiction,
soon to wobble and slip into
the encompassing menace.
Capturing our youth,
in a whirl of passion,
and a fountain of angst.

The high like no other,
as we sit in a dark room all alone.
Words floating through our body,
meeting our aching pain,
like no other.
A confusion, a misunderstanding,
demanding of you,
that which you can not give.

Lost, astray, far from home.
The music pulls you back to yourself,
meeting again the imminent longing,
to know who you are and where youa re going.
The notes give you the road.
and the lyrics the push to walk down it.

The voice, one of despair or one of hope,
grabs at the soul, penetrates the chagrin.
Reaches the dark corner of the mind,
threads through the cobwebs,
of feelings covered with dust.

The music listens when no one else will.