When thoughts are dark and the heart is churning,
An escape and freedom is to be welcomed.
The hurting needs to knock out the bad so
New emotions can grow.
New thoughts with greener fields and
Fresher air caring the pain in the wind.
Something to float the burning embers
Down and away from view.
Something that will erode the old and broken and
Carry it down a browning stream, until it’s out of view.
That, in its place, will regrow and flourish with
Bright colors and happy times.
We all need that escape flood to wash away the agony
And leave in its spot better flowers and lively life.
We all have that special way to erase what we don’t want
And grow the freedom of wandering minds.
My special way is a sound that muddles the polluted.
My coursing river carries notes that will stay the visit
Until the services are needed no more, and even then.
My freedom is a sweet sound to be carried in the wind.
Rock to erode frustration.
Ballads to erase water droplets.
Jazz to regrow the giggly.
Pop to bring in the livelier.
My Music is My Flood.