There is something that happens
When you connect that cable
To your beloved collection of wood, metal and plastic
It is not just the transfer of an electric current
There is a connection made to your very soul
In the seconds, minutes, hours that follow
A release is found
As unexplainable as falling in love
What is inside must come out
The soul cries for release through every groan of every day
The release is found with every bend, every triad, every glorious palm mute
How depressing would the world be without a good palm mute?
The intensity builds, volume increases, tempo changes with the mood
Never played before, never to be played again, this is the thrill of being lost in creativity
All too soon it is over, the clock ticks and it is time to return to the real world
Not before what needed to be expressed has been
This is a gift, not necessarily a gifting
No one will pay you for this, most likely no one will even listen
It matters not, it never did, that is simply not the point
What you experienced was real and true and beautiful
What you experienced realigned the stars
And now, now at the conclusion
All you are left with are the side effects
As you realize your skin was shedding while you were shredding
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