Some songs end far too soon. The beat leaves the speakers but remains buzzing in your head, annoyingly so, until you are forced to decide between playing it again or giving it up temporarily, permanently even, so that it no longer infects your memory with its contagious, disheartening, unbelievable sticking sense of permanence.
Wise men would let it go, fools would continue to play on.
Other would stick to their sanity, and rationalize that it is nothing more than a song, a powerless and emotionless play on words set to a mesmerizing, fanciful rhythm and time, meant only to manipulate those weak of mind.
Some things are meant to be, and some songs are meant to be repeated. So what I would need from you, then, is to please just take my hand through this, in fact, take my whole life too, I need you to be the DJ and spin the track into infinity. Take it all, rather than skip this song, or erase it from my iPod.
The ambiguity in certainty is what kills me, really. The not-knowing, the repeat once, twice or never. How many times can I put this on repeat before it become overplayed, or worse, sickeningly sweet? Will I ever grow tired of the repetitious beats? Will I sicken at the naivety of the lyrics? Will I forever appreciate the subtly written into its bridge?
When will this song, so short lived and so unmistakably poignant, become something that only the "kids" are listening to? When will I have moved on?
I could say it but you won't believe me. I can think it, but it may deceive me.
You are my not my song, you are my music. I fall mute in your presence. My life certainly feels silent without your crescendos.
I miss you terribly. And then I remember, to miss, is a privilege. To hear our song is a gift.
[Rpt x1]
ohh man Frank, there's so much i'd like to ask you!
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