It’s a different world when the band plays.

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Music melts through

One hundred year old wood floors

When the band plays.

When the band plays,

It permeates my home,

Saturates my bones,

And the singer is another

Instrument in

The band that plays downstairs.

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When the band plays the

Music seems forever.

So why does it end?

I want to hear the music

To the ends of threads, and

Through hundred year-old floors,

Through an eternity of souls,

Through a love letter’s woes.

Through my windows,

Through my doors enter

Into my pores

Into my blood then

Into heart.

Music,

Sweet music!

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