They are the lonely ones who understand me. I am the lonely one who understands them. One lonely room with guitar necks and messy cords. The ones who do not belong here can not hear. For the ones with narrow tastes planted by the society. From our rooms, we can’t hear them, but our genny just sleeps and doesn’t understand the depth these things.
Their strength is without bound. They send smooth sounds directly to the sounds. They go up and they go down and grab the ears between their eyes and give you a taste of the sky and you never question why. These are the ones beneath.
Let the ones forget where it all comes from, they’d all drop like water down a cold glass, each with their arms around the other. Beep, beep, beep they say when I play. They dance.
When I am too sad and too busy to keep going, when I am sad I turn it on, then we begin to create to help you relate. When there is nothing left to listen to this street will be steep. The lonely ones will grow despite concrete. The lonely ones who reach you if you let them. The lonely ones just want to make everybody come together..