roundelay

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Where do we go, nobody knows
I’ve gotta say I’m on my way down
God give me style and give me grace
God put a smile upon my face

sitting there with chris martin crooning, the piano chords striking something deep, deep within. all at once, the symphony comes together; drums, guitar, bass, keyboard… and the chorus resonates. involuntarily, the foot starts tapping the beat.

Where do I go to fall from grace
God put a smile upon your face, yeah

Now when you work it out I’m worse than you
Yeah when you work it out, I want it too…

you try to listen harder; the foot taps faster, faster…the fingers join in. the rhythm builds within you, you wish you could actually play the guitar – follow the beat, follow the tune, follow the song. you also know no instrument would ever produce that kind of music coming from you. you sit back; your hands moving in unison to meaningless strumming, nonsense chords…the only thing that makes any sense is the beat, the rhythm, the song.

the music.

Now when you work out where to draw the line
Your guess is as good as mine…
It’s as good as mine
As good as mine…

you wonder why, you wonder if ever, you wonder why you wonder… the line starts hammering itself into your head, and a voice joins in before you realise it.
you are singing.
you open your mouth to mouth the words… the legs still tapping the beat that you hear… the hands strumming the song the way only you can… the head jams to a song that you live, you resonate with, you change to drum roll with nary a pause, then the keyboard, the hands moving in configurations that are yours; and yours alone. the drums, the keyboard, the bass, the guitar, the voice…

the song.

God gave you style and gave you grace
And put a smile upon your face…

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