What happens to the people who used to write the songs?
Do they run out of things to say?
Or does the machine
Eat them and their dreams
Until there's nothing left to hide away?

What happens to the love that squeezed their feelings into
Ink?
What happens to the chilling harmonies?
Do they fade with time
Ike a moth lit nursery rhyme
And quit hearing new rifts and melodies?

Mmmmmmmmmmmmm
I love the skies
Where music never dies,
And clouds create new stories in the air.
Strawberries peek thru them for the sun.
And there is love for everyone.
And the sound is fresh and comes from everywhere.

So heavenly and so very delicious!

-jenn