The studio is quiet, there is only me and you, the microphone is open in the hope of recording something new.

Considering the words now, do I sing or like some detached poet recite the words that from the wall do bleed in crimson ink, what music will come from this? I have no time to stop and think.

I take a drink another swallow from the bottle of promises do empty dull and drear, I let go of all my yesterday’s for my tomorrow’s never to come I will not shed a single tear.

I scream I howl I rage, a madman alone upon this dark and empty stage until I hold you in my arms again and your strings shall echo long forgotten words that lie on many a hidden page.

When if ever will I look into your eyes do dark? Find my lips firm against yours once more; oh! How they hunger to make their mark.

The fogs and mists of Autumn are coming to haunt us all once more, the walls that drip so terrible before tell of such unforgiving nightmares, terrors to be sure, the ghosts are howling insanely the gods of rock are kicking against the door, coming back to rage against us, standards slipping of this you can be sure.

Hear the keyboards tear at your heartstrings just for show as the drum and bass create desire in the areas down below, the guitars come in howling like banshees on a stormy night and the brass comes in a screaming but sounding oh so right.

But the studio is empty, there is only me and you and my mind becomes so empty I’m lost, not sure of what next to do….

….My heart, still beating

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