What's the matter?
Nothing.
Come on, tell me.
Nothing, damn it.
There's something on your mind.
After all these years,
I can read you from your eyes.
It's telling me the fears.
I'm fine, I'll get through.
Who cares what I think anyway?
It's not anything new,
Plus, there's always hell to pay.
All I want is a little peace,
Some quiet to ease my pain.
This migraine will never cease.
I'm suffering quietly, always the same.
You sure?
Yes.
No.
Studio B
- Mark
- When you need to wake up in the morning, and set the right mood for the day, when you need to escape from the overwhelming everything of life. What do you turn to? How do you describe your core without speaking aloud, without having to talk to someone about it? This is how. Music. Lyrics. Poetry. Do you feel it? Do you? It's here, it's everywhere, locked within you, within the most tone deaf of us. It's begging to be released, become unleashed in a tearing chord, a crying melody, soulful harmony, dying lyric. You feel it yet? It's concealed here, within every word that I write. This is my release. I want you to see it, to feel it with me. This pure expression of every tangible and imaginable emotion known and unknown to man. To me. Welcome to The Window.